THE  LIBRARY 
OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 

OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 


jQiongs  of 
X3he  Qreat 
/jdventure 


New  Bottles 
The  Naked  Truth 

War  Lines 

New  and  Old  Songs 

Personal  Privilege 

Facets  of  Truth 


LUKE  V!ORTHjl'f^M^MjL,y 


19  17 
Los  A  nge  1  es 
GOLDEN  PRESS 


NOT  COPYRIGHTED 


48 


^ 


PS 
51Ss 


TO     WHOSE    APPRECIATION    MANY    OF    THESB 
VERSES    OWE    THEIR    EXISTENCE — 

WILLIAM    F.  GABLE 


S04 


C  ONTENTS 

Songs  of  the  Great  Adventure 

A   Million    Jobless    Men 27 

Audacity    9 

A   War   Song  for  Men 30 

California    41 

Give  Labor  the  Vision  of  a  Free  Earth 13 

"I   Am   for   Men" 25 

Omitted   from  the  Spoon   River  Anthology 36 

On    and    After— 23 

That   the   Land   Be   Opened   to   Man 33 

The   White    Man's    Totem 32 

This    Will    Come 20 

Title   20 

What's  It  to  You? 40 

Who  Will  Join   The  Great  Adventure? 21 

Who  Will  Work  for  a  Free  Earth? 10 

New  Bottles 

A  Man's   Prayer 55 

A    New    Valor 64 

Antinomies  ■ 54 

As    to    Hate 49 

Be    Strong    First 67 

Earth's    God    44 

Hate  Gods,   Love  Men 72 

Hate    Is    Force 66 

Humility     60 

Life    Lures    57 

Man's    God    44 

No    Man's    Keeper 62 

Self    Respect    45 

That    I    May    Strive 63 

The  Blind   Goddess 58 

The  Love  of  Gold  or  the  Love  of  Man 70 

The    Master    Motive 74 

The    Nativity    50 

The    New   Art   56 


Contents 


The    New    Power    68 

The   Old   Art   56 

The   Only   Danger   51 

The    Only    Revolutionary 48 

The    Only    Virtue 52 

The   State    76 

The  Unknown   46 

To    Keep   the   Ideal 53 

Wanted — Men      61 

The  Naked  Truth 

Be    Truthful    80 

Bottom    Facts    8? 

Business    81 

Culture      82 

I   Am   Free 83 

If   He   Were   Yours 99 

If  We  Hated   Murder 100 

I    Will    Not    Fight 102 

Only  the  Poor  97 

Preparedness  84 

Stark    Winter    78 

Three    Blood   Brothers 86 

Two  in  a  Million  94 

We    Love    Murder 98 

We're  Going  to  Hang  a  Boy  in  California 88 

Where  Are  the  Women  of  California? 92 

Who   Are   the   Strong? 79 

Your    Brother    101 

War  Lines 

A    Flaggerel    110 

All  This  Killing  112 

Armageddon     104 

If    We    Must 116 

Its    Shame    114 

Its   Strut   114 

Peace    and    War   113 

Slay    Your    Masters 115 

The  Eucharist  116 

The  Lesser  Evil  113 

The   Lie   114 


Contents 


The  New  War  109 

The  Real   War   109 

War's   Masks   106 

War  Will   Not   Cease 108 

New  and  Old  Songs 

A    Man    Belief 126 

A   Plea  for  Man 120 

Song   of    the    Hangman 128 

Song   of   the    Printing   Press 118 

Song  of  the  Railway  Crossing 122 

That  Love  Be  Bold 125 

The   Doctrine   of   Rights 131 

Personal  Privilege 

A   Friend   of  Mine 138 

At  the   Rosslyn   Hotel 145 

Divergence   139 

Fay     140 

Now    144 

Personal    Privilege    136 

Why   I   Stay 142 

Facets  of  Truth 

Human  Nature   151 

Human    Nature    Percentages 149 

Ideals   153 

Martyrdom    and    Sacrifice 154 

Not   the   Worst    Thing 157 

Oodles    of    Knowledge 155 

Personal    Salvation    153 

Still    Waiting    for    Heaven 150 

The    Heart    Leads    158 

The  Line   of  Cleavage   156 

The    Silver    Thread    -  148 

The    Source    of    Power 152 

The   World    Is   Awake 159 


Songs  of  The  Great  Adventure 


Songs  of  The  Great  Adventure 


AUDACITY 

Indeed,  on  earth  with  Fate  we  shall  conspire, 
Recast  the  wolfish  Scheme  of  Things  entire. 

Break  feudal  codes  that  hold  men  from  the  earth. 
Remold  the  nations  to  the  Heart's  Desire. 

'Tis  Fear  that  cozens  Hope  of  its  caress 
And  leaves  your  piety  all  comfortless. 

'Tis  Fear,  I  say,  that  robs  e'en  Love  of  joy 
And  tinges  human  life  with  bitterness. 

'Tis  Fear,  'tis  Fear  of  flesh,  of  death,  of  "lust" 
In  Nature,  God,  or  Self,  no  helpful  trust. 

All  modern  life  is  ruled  by  dead  men's  codes — 
Its  Faith  is  based  on  shining  bits  of  dust. 

O  Man!  stand  up,  and  dare  be  What  thou  art; 
Dare  live,  enjoy,  demand;  forget  the  mart; 

Dare  to  be  free,  dare  even  that  thine  Heart 
Shall  lead!  O,  be  the  very  God  thou  art. 

Dare  lift  thy  head  from  custom's  slavish  yoke, 
Tear  from  Society  its  tradesman's  cloak. 

Dare  take  the  Soil,  thy  heritage  of  birth — 
Dare  all,   dare   all!   Thyself   alone   invoke! 

O,  be  a  gambler  bold  and  freely  throw 
The  dice  of  life,  lay  all  its  hollow  show 

Of  dross  upon  the  cloth — its  Gold  to  win — 
And  play  the  greatest  game  the  heart  can  know! 


10        Songs  of  The  Great  Adventure 


WHO  WILL  WORK  FOR  A 
FREE  EARTH? 

Who  will  work  for  a  Free  Earth — 
To   establish  the   rule   that  no   one  shall  hold 
more  land  than  he  uses — 
Who   will — Work!— not   merely   talk   and   attend 
lectures  and  banquets — Who  will  Work 
To  end  poverty  quickly  by  estabUshing  the 
rule  and  the  law — 
That  the  Earth  shall  be  open  to  all  on 
equal  terms? 

Who  will  do  his  share  Now — 

Here  in  California,  Oregon,  Texas— wherever— 
At  This  Moment  to  apply  the  Golden  Rule 
at  the  base  of  life — 
To   abolish  basic  laws  and  customs  that  pau- 
perize the  many  by  giving  the  land  and  its 
resources  to  monopolists  and  speculators — 
Who  will  Work  now  to  establish  the  rule  of  a 
Free  Earth? 

Who  will  give  all  he  can — 

Of  himself,  his  talents,  his  time,  his  thought, 

his  cash,  and  his  energy — 
Whatever  he  has  to  give — give  it  freely, 

finely,  generously. 
For  no  private  gain  higher  or  lower 

Than  the  satisfaction  of  doing  his  utmost  to 
halt  the  starving  of  children,  the  prostitu- 
tion of  maids,  the  wage  slaveries  of  men  and 
women,  the  disemployment  of  millions — 
Who  will  give  and  work  Now? 


Who  Will  Work  for  Free  Earth?       11 

Here  is  the  Opportunity — 
To  take  an  actual,  tangible,  definite  step  in  a 

legal  and  orderly  manner 
To  achieve  the  First  Necessity  of  an  unenslavcd 
Manhood — A  Free  and  Open  Earth! 
The  rule  of  which  once  gained,  the  down- 
ward pressure  toward  greater  and  greater 
human  degradation — toward  increasing 
suicide,  crime,  prostitution,  and  disemploy- 
ment — will  be  halted! 

On  a  free  and  open  earth — 
Cooperation  will  be  practicable, 
Real  Individualism  will  be  possible, 
Fraternalism's  profit  can  be  shared  by  all, 
The  parent  Privilege  will  be  dead! 
The  root  cause  of  War  will  be  gone! 
The  institutions  of  Comradeship  may  then 

begin  to  grow. 
Dreams  and  longings  of  the  enlightened  human 

heart  may  then  take  shape. 
Man's  innate  sense  of  justice   (sans  quibble) — 
The  human  passion  to  utter  freely  the   Soul's 

fondest  boldest  deepest  urges — 
Manhood's  need  to  be  fearless  and  expansive 

— his  everlasting  search  for  the  Intangible! 
Womanhood's  need  for  a  wholesome  earth  on 

which  to  breed  Courageous  Men — and  lure 

them  to  higher  daring  with  the  "starry 

treachery  of  her   eyes!" — 

All  these — and  all  the  lesser  or  greater  things  of 
growth,   happiness,   peace,   comfort,   expression 
and  experience — 
Whatever  it  is  that  all  or  any  of  us  are  after — 
All  these  must  Begin! 
How  can  they  otherwise  begin  save — 

On  a  Free  and  Open  Earth? 


12        Songs  of  The  Great  Adventure 

And  here  we  have  made  a  start — 

Here  in  California  and  in  Oregon  and  in 
Texas — 
Here  we  have  drawn  a  Human  Bill 
— a  peoples'  measure,  to  be  enacted  by  the 
People — 

A  bill  that  says  in  essence:  "Use  your  land 
or  get  off  it  and  let  some  one  else  use  it — 
use  the  oil,  coal,  timber,  ores  of  the  earth  or 
yield  the  titles  by  which  you  hold  them 
idle!" 

By  the  terms  of  this  bill  the  People  assert 
(grant  and  establish  to  themselves) — 
To  the  Whole  People  on  Equal  Terms 
The  earth  and  its  resources! — 
Grant  and  Establish  to  Themselves  at  least 
the  legal  power  to  control  and  share  fairly 
the  land  and  its  produce. 

If  there  develop  "other  bridges  to  cross" 
Before  the  earth  can  be  opened  to  all  men — 
We  shall  be  the  better  able  to  cross  them 

having  crossed  this  one  unitedly,  compactly. 

If  other  power  than  legal  power 

Shall  be  necessary  to  open  the  earth  to  man 
We  shall  be  thrice  armed  and  doubly  strong 
For  having  taken  the  legal  power  Together! 

Here  now  is  the  struggle  for  a  Free  Earth 

Fairly  begun! 
What  will  You  do  to  further  it? 


Songs  of  The  Great  Adventure        13 


GIVE  LABOR  THE  VISION  OF  A  FREE 
EARTH 

Comes  a  voice:  "Labor  is  Life — Not  Vision!" 
Comes  to  rebuke  the  idealists,  those  "dreamy 

men  and  women  filled  with  ideas." 
A  voice 

Echoing  the  masters'  dictum 
That  whatever  is  must  be; 
And   the    church's    dogma — 
A  few  are  chosen  of  God  and  many  not. 

It  is  not  true.     What  is 

"God  and  my  country"  but  a  vision? 

What  are  all  the  shibboleths  of  the  masters — 

Law  and  Order,  Progress,  Posterity, 

Patriotism,  Majesty  of  the  Law, 

Preservation  of  the  State — 
Would  you  call  them  actualities? — 
And  a  thousand  other  sounding  phrases 
By  which  the  masses  are  chained — 
What  are  these  but  visions? — 
False  ideals  impressed  upon  Labor, 
Dreams   (nightmares)   dogmas 
By  which  Labor  was  led  to  captivity 
And  is  held  there? 

Labor  does  not  originate  its  own  visions 

But  its  capacity  for  them  is  inherent 

Unending  profound. 

Labor   is   led   imprisoned   bound 

And  might  be  Freed 

By  visions! 

Above  all  is  Labor  Vision — 


14        Songs  of  The  Great  Adventure 

Too  much  so  for  that  it  lacks  wisdom 

To  sift  the  false  from  the  true 

And  falls  victim  to  the  abstract  ideals 

Most  insistently  impressed  upon  it. 

Only  by  Visions — 

By  ideals  unattaint  of  narrow  petty  personal  cash 

or  material  considerations — 
Shall  Labor  be  led  to  its  own  unfoldment, 

For  only  by  visions 

Is  Labor  deeply  stirred 

And  blindly  led. 

As  Labor  is  led  to  the  shambles 

So  it  can  be  led  to  the  Light — 

By  Visions. 

Give  Labor  the  vision  of  a  Free  Earth 

And  a   Splendid   Manhood 

Here! — in  this  world — 

Now! — in  this  generation. 

Give  it  the  vision  of  an  earth  free 

Of  hate  and  its  gallows — 

An  earth  with  no  prisons  or  penal  codes, 

No  judges  and  detectives, 

No  landlords  and  paupers — 

Give  Labor  a  vision 

That  will  stir  its  soul  to  Action, 

Awaken  its  heroism  and  daring 

And  Manhood! 

Labor  is  not  all  blind 
All  content  with  its  chains. 
See,  it  turns  toward  the  Light — 
Yearns  for  other  Visions! 

And  we  meet  Labor's  soul  hunger 
With  logic!  with  political  economy! 
With  lectures  and  resolutions — 


Give  Labor  the  Vision  15 

Of  a  thousand  differing  and  contradicting  kinds. 

We  greet  Labor  with  our  own 

Lack  of  Vision 

Or  with  hopeless  theologic  platitudes 

A  little  changed  in  phrasing. 

Labor  staggers  confused  bewildered 
At  the  multiplicity  of  counsel. 
Our  mechanized  logic  frightens  it. 
Whom  shall  it  follow — 
Which  ist  or  ism  of  a  dozen? 
And  where  is  the  Vision — 
The  saner,  better,  purer  Ideal 
Than  "God  and  my  country"? 

Labor  is  not  Vision,  say  you? 

Labor  is  all  Vision — a  prisoner  to  its  visions. 

It  is  we  who  think  a  little 

That  lack  vision. 

Think  a  little  harder,  friends — 

Open  the  heart — 

And  back  will  come  the  vision — 

The  beautiful  vision  of  a  Free  Earth 

Without  paupers,  parasites,  and  prostitutes — 

The  vision  we  have  lost 

In  wrangling  over  its   distant  details, 

In  debating  how  (not)   to  obtain  it — 

The  vision  of  a  decenter  Home  for  Man 

On  Earth — on  a  free  earth! — 

Forgetful  that  only  Labor  can  build  it. 

We  have  lost  the  Vision. 

Open  the  Heart  for  its  return. 

Let  it  burn  out 

The  dissonances  of  our  differences 

And  knit  us  into  a  compact  priesthood 

To  lead  the  human  mass 

To  its  own  unfoldment. 


16        Songs  of  The  Great  Adventure 

With  our  regained  Vision 

Let  us  greet  Labor. 

With  our  Vision 

We  will  arouse  in  Labor 

Its  deepest  wildest  strongest 

Holiest  and  boldest  Passion 

Of  Man  for  Man, 

The  passion  of  Life  and  daring 

And  High  Adventure 

That  shall  tread  down 

Tyrants  and  tyranny, 

Exploiters  and  exploitation, 

In  a  mad  mighty  rush  of  Man 

Toward  the  Light — 

In  a  sweep  as  impetuous 

As  a  band  of  a  thousand  bisons 

Obliterating  everything  in  its  path — 

As  irresistibly  as  the  manhood  of  Europe 

Swept  across  the  nations  and  the  seas 

To  rescue  the  Holy  Sepulchre! 

Labor  has  no  vision? 

It  once  had! 

And  can  have  again. 

Labor  has  no  vision! 

Whose  fault  is  that? 

Ours. 

We,  the   makers   of  visions — 

The  natural  priesthood  of  the  mass — 

We  have  failed 

To  give  Labor  a  Vision. 

When  in  distrust 

Of  its  theologic  visions 

It  turns  to  us 

We  give  it — economics! 


Give  Labor  the  Vision  17 

Labor  has  had  visions, 

Has  one  now — 

Hell's  vision  of  death  and  hate  and  murder 

In  Europe. 

And  in  America 

It   clings  doubtingly  to  the  old  visions, 

The  masters'  visions — 

But  its  face  is  turned  our  way 

And  in  its  eyes  is  a  cosmic  hunger 

A  world  longing — a  mute 

Searching  passion  for  a  New  Vision 

Ere  it  plunges 

To  another  sea  of  blood. 

No  vision! 

Let  us  give  it  a  Vision — 

An   impracticable  unattainable 

Dream  Vision! 

In  its  rush  to  gain  which 

It  may  strike  off  many  chains 

And  at  the  mid-goal 

Find  itself  on  a  Free  Earth 

Potentially  its  own  master. 

Do  we  fear? 

Do  we  doubt? 

What  is  it  that  stays  us? 

Shall  the  mass  be  led  only  by  evil  visions? 

Can't  the  mass  be  led  by 

Love  as  well  as  hate? 

Can't  it  be  easier  led  by 

Love  than  by  hate — 

To  its  own   unfolding 

Than  its  own  undoing? 

The  cosmic  tide  of  human  progression 
The  world  wave  of  democratization 
The  trend  of  all  the  human  centuries 


18        Songs  of  The  Great  Adventure 

Are  ours  to  use. 

They  await  intelligent  employment. 

They  point  the  way 

Of  Least  Resistance! 

Kings  priests  exploiters 

Have  to  battle  against  them. 

They  are  on  our  side. 

All  the  Powers  of  Light,  seen  and  unseen, 

known  and  guessed. 
Will  aid  us. 

Love  and  intelligence — 
The  human  head  and  heart — 
All   their  highest   mightiest  values — 
Those  that  have  saved  the  race 
From  extinction 
In  its  darkest  hours — 
All  will  be  on  our  side! 

Impracticable! 

It  is  the  only  practicable 

Move  on  the  human  horizon — 

The  only  one  that  will  achieve 

Anything   worth   crossing   the   street  to   get. 

It  is  the  only  move 

That  can  win! 

Greed's  tyranny  is 

Increasing! 

In  America,  as  elsewhere, 

Its  victims  grow  more  numerous 

Every  year. 

Manhood  is  waning! 

Your  hope  of  further  education 

Is  futile 

On  a  monopolized  earth! 

Why  do  we  haggle  and  hesitate — 

We,   the    Intelligent    Minority   of  America? 


Give  Labor  the  Vision  19 


If  Labor  has  no  Vision — 

f*  The  fault  is  ours. 


Come,  let  us  regain  our  Vision 

And  show  it  to  Labor — to  the  human  mass- 

And  start  them  on 

The  Holiest  Crusade 

The  weary  old  world  has  ever  known! — 

Man's  Great  Adventure — the  quest 

For  the  human  alkahest! 


20        Songs  of  The  Great  Adventure 


THIS  WILL  COME 

And  Labor  bold  in  all  its  might  shall  rise 

Its  own  to  grasp  and  hold — ^high  heaven  emprise! 

The  earth  to  seize  and  make  forever  Free — 
Thus  strip  from  Greed  its  power  to  tyrannise! 


TITLE 

What  mortal  makes  or  adds  an  inch  of  land? 
O'er  earth  let  him  alone  stretch  forth  the  hand 

Of  lustful  ownership  and  sun  and  air 
And  liberty  and  even  life  command! 


Songs  of  The  Great  Adventure        21 


WHO    WILL    JOIN    THE    GREAT 
ADVENTURE  ? 

Who  then  will  join  a  movement  to  release  Amer- 
ica's   land    to    its    inhabitants    upon    Equal 
Terms?— 
Destroy  Privilege  at  its  Base 
Halt  the  hunger,  prostitution,  child  labor,  and 
"crime"  so  ridiculously  Unnecessary  in  an 
undeveloped  land  of  immeasurable  richness! — 
Stop  the  Cosmic  Hideous  Joke  of  a  million  idle 
men  on  a  billion  Unused  Acres!! 

Who  will  join  a  movement  to  release  Man  from 
needless,  deadening  poverty  and  free  him  to 
himself — to  his  better,  truer,  kinder,  whole- 
some Self  that  hungers  for  expression  and 
experience,  and  is  deterred  first  and  mainly 
by  the  terrible  economic  pressure  which 
brings  but  misery  and  grief  even  to  the 
few  who  reap  its  harvest? 

Who  will  join — Who  will  give  themselves  unre- 
servedly— 
Who  will  find  their  own   keenest  good — 
Who  will  serve,  and  dare,  with  no  hope  of 
reward  or  preferment,  for  no  honors,  titles, 
emoluments,  epaulettes,  or  iron  crosses — the 
greatest  cause  the  world  has  ever  known? 

Who  will  join  the  Great  Adventure! — to  free,  not 
a  class,  not  a  race  nor  a  color  of  men,  but 
all  men! — 


22        Songs  of  The  Great  Adventure 

And    make    of    America    the    world's    Asylum 
where  every  one  may  find  a 

Home    without    a    Landlord    and    reap    all 
his  labor  sows? 

Who  will  join  with  those  who  Care  and  Feel  and 

will  Resolve  to  Free  the  Earth 
Quickly!  tomorrow,  today,  very  soon! — in  This 

genersltion ! — Now — 
By  the  force  of  numbers! 
By  the  power  of  Human  Sympathy  quickened 

to  life  from  its  long  sleep  in  the  deeps  of 

Man? 
For    the    manumission    of   All,     regardless     of 

class,  creed,  doctrine,  tenet,  ism — 
Heeding    only    the    First    Human    Need,    free 

access  to  the  Land! 

Who   will  help  the   effort   to   establish  a  tenure 
of  use  and  occupance  as  sole  title  to  earth, 
air,  and  sky — 
Thus  to  abolish  Exploitation  at  its  root — 
By  an  Immediate  appeal  to  the  Heart  of  the 

Human  Crowd! 
Careful  to  eschew  ephemeral  sentimentality,  or 
the  lower  emotions  that  lead  to  violence  and 
play  into  the  hands  of  Greed — 
Yet  fearless  of  any  contingency,  deeming  the 
Human  Need  of  paramount  importance — 

A  concentrated,  united  appeal,  by  the  Entire  In- 
telligent Minority  of  America — 
Of  all  the  sociologic  schools  and  doctrines — 
Combined   in    a    mighty   effort   to    arouse   the 

whole  human   mass  from  its  Apathy — 
Centering  upon  the  One  Demand,  a  Free  Earth 


Who  Will  Join 23 

(intellectual  differences  of  method  to  be  con- 
sidered afterward) — 
Invoking   as   its   leverage   the    only   power    of 

human  unanimity,  the  Heart  Force  latent  in 

every  being — 

Who   will   join   The   Great   Adventure? 


ON    AND    AFTER. 
On  and  after 


O,  what  shall  the  date  be? 
On  and  after  which 
No  man  shall  rob  another 
By  authority  of  the  State. 

On  and  after 


Men!    Let's  make  it  soon! 
On   and  after  which 
No  man's  daughter  need  sell 
Her  sex  for  bread. 


24        Songs  of  The  Great  Adventure 


On  and  after- 


Are  we  nearly  ready  to  be  Men? 
On  and  after  which 
None  shall  kill  and  debauch 
By  power  of  the  State. 

On  and  after 


The  world  has  waited  long  for 

the   date 
On  and  after  which 
Greed   shall   not   fatten 
On  human  sweat  and  blood. 

On  and  after 


Men  will  blush  to  recall  the  day 
On  and  after  which 
Five  million  jobless  wanderers 
Found  homes  and  work  on  the 
Land! 

On  and  after 


On  and  after  which 

No  man  shall  hold  of  earth 

More  than  he  can  use! 


Songs  of  The  Great  Adventure        25 


"I    AM    FOR    MEN" 

He  stood  for  Men 

Not  for  parties,  sections,  classes; 

Not  for  dogmas,  doctrines,  isms — 

Nor  all  the  minutiae  of  over-elaborated  plans  for 
the  future. 

Nor  for  craven  caution,  dissimulation,  equivoca- 
tion— 

Patience  that  now  outrages  virtue — 

Program'd  ways  and  means  which  if  not  followed 

The  world  may  stay  in  hell. 

He  stood  for  Men 

For  in  his  soul  he  knew  the  line  of  cleavage 
Was  not  between  the  robber  and  the  robbed — 
Was  not  marked  by  external  difference, 
By   rank   or    class    or    occupation    or   wealth    or 

poverty- 
He  knew  that  poor  men  could  be  very  cruel  and 

rich  men  kind. 
He  knew  the  line  of  cleavage  was  in  the  heart — 

those  who  care  and  those  who  don't — 
This    Henry   George   who   wrote   "Progress   and 

Poverty." 

He  stood  for  Men 

And  was  he  wrong  to  yield  no  tithe  to  classes? 

What  has  now  become  of  all  the  appeals 

To  class  interest,  class  consciousness,  class  soli- 
darity? 

The  human  heart  will  not  respond  to  them — in 
every  class  are  tyrants. 

The  human  mass  forgets  its  every  interest, 

Flings  to  the  wind  all  self  and  class  advantage 


26        Songs  of  The  Great  Adventure 


And  goes  out  to  die  for  a  word. 
He  stood  for  Men 


And   showed   the   world   how   to    unshackle    the 

chains  that  bind  men. 
He  showed  how  poverty  begins, 
Where  modern  slavery  has  its  roots, 
And  how  to  tear  them  up. 
The  earth  is  for  all  men,  he  said — 
And  his  word  has  gone  around  the  world — 
And  now  it's  time  to  act! 

He  stood  for  Men 


Not  creeds  and  doctrines,  nor  all  the  lesser  de- 
tails of  future  contingencies. 

He  bared  the  earth  to  man. 

It  is  for  us  to  take  it. 

He  tried  to  gain  it,  and  was  beaten  back  to  his 
death. 

Now  we  will  gain  it — 

At  whatever  cost! 


Songs  of  the  Great  Adventure         27 


A  MILLION  JOBLESS  MEN 

A  million  jobless  men — 

On  twenty-three  hundred  million  acres  of  idle 

earth 
Rich  with  unworked  mines, 
Webbed  with  highways  and  railroads, 
Watered  with  rivers  and  brooks 
Under  snow-capped  peaks  and  mountain  lakes. 

A  Million  jobless  men — 

In  an  idle,  unused,  vacant,  fertile  land 
Dotted  here  and  there  with  villages  and  cities 
In  which  a  hundred  million  mouths  want  food 
And  a  hundred  million  human  needs 
And  longings  go  half  supplied. 

A  million  jobless  men — 

Idle,  hungry,  roofless,  shabby  men 
With  ten  million  women  and  children  depend- 
ent upon  them. 
Wandering  aimlessly  over  twenty-three  hun- 
dred million  acres 
Of  land  that  is  mostly  fertile  and  mostly  idle — 
Idle,  vacant,  unused  land — and  a  starving 
people! 

A  million  jobless  men — 

In  an  idle,  vacant,  unused  land  broad  enough 

To  house  without  crowding  every  human  be- 
ing in  the  world — 

Rich  enough  to  support 

All  the  earth's  population, 

Its  own  few  people  but  partly  housed,  fed  and 
clothed! 


28        Songs  of  The  Great  Adventure 

A  million  jobless  men — 

Clerks,  bookkeepers,  artisans,  laborers,  all  the 

professions — 
Men  with  nothing  to  do,  who  can  find  no  work, 
While    two    million    stunted   children    labor   in 

mine  and  mill 
And  needy  women  must  sell  their  sex  for  food — 
A  million  or  maybe  six  million  jobless  men! 

A  million  jobless  men — 

And  ten  million  poorly  paid  men  who  get 
barely  enough  to  sustain  their  families. 

And  a  million  women  on  the  streets,  and  a 
million  hungry  children, 

Plus  a  million  mortgaged  homes,  and  a  million 
business  bankrupts — 

On  twenty-three  hundred  million  acres  of  inex- 
haustible richness  not  a  thousandth  part  of 
which  has  been  touched! 

A  million  jobless  men — 

And  twenty  million  human  dolts  content  to  live 
in  hell — 

To  lecture,  write,  legislate,  investigate,  resolve, 
and  vote 

To  "cure  unemployment!"  with  a  learned  Presi- 
dent 

And  a  cabinet  and  a  congress  of  economic 
students 

Who  institute  Employment  Bureaus!!  to  feed 
the  hungry,  jobless,  idle  men  tramping  over 
idle,  vacant,  undeveloped  land! 

A  million  jobless  men — 
And  ten  million  legislators,  judges,  detectives, 
soldiers,  sheriffs,  constables,  and  policemen 
With  clubs,  guns,  bayonets,  legal  process,  penal 


A  Million  Jobless  Men 


29 


codes,    prisons,    handcuffs,    dungeons,    and 

gallows 
To  keep"  these  million  jobless  men  from  going 

on  the  idle,  naked,  fertile  acres 
And    feeding    themselves,    their     women,     and 

children! 


A  million  jobless  men — 
In  1914 
Now  most  all  at  work  making  death  machinery 

to  blow  each  other  to  hell! 
The  land  still  idle — and  a  million  wage  slaves 

making  murder  machinery! 


^^^^"i-^^^K'^C^^ 


hu^.     JJZ  f . 


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4ii^ 


(y^ 


^"^ 


30        Songs  of  The  Great  Adventure 


A  WAR  SONG  FOR  MEN 

Hear  the  rumbling  legions 
Now  the  hour  of  war! 
Not  to  slay  the  foeman 
Nor  to  bleed  a  state. 
War  for  human  beings, 
Love  instead  of  hate. 

Hear  the  tramp  of  millions; 
Nor  bombs  nor  cannon  roar 
Only  men  awakened, 
Aliens  by  birth — 
Overwhelming  legions 
To  seize  and  free  the  earth! 

Rising  are  the  millions: 
Nor  fear  nor  hope  can  bar. 
Not  for  gods  or  dogmas 
Not  for  words  their  fight. 
Singleness  of  purpose — 
Might  befriends  their  right. 

Race  nor  creed  divide  them, 
Gathering  near  and  far; 
Puissant  come  the  millions. 
Captained  by  their  need. 
Thought  and  care  are  leading 
Earth  to  wrench  from  Greed! 

War's  for  gain  forever; 
Then  let  the  gain  be  ours. 
Keep  the  braid  and  tinsel, 
All  the  minted  gold; 
Earth  alone  we're  taking — 


A  War  Song  for  Men  31 


Birthright  of  the  bold! 

Scorn  your  death  devices, 
Greed's  infernal  powers; 
Life  itself  we're  seeking! 
This  our  first  command, 
Pealing  now  as  thunder — 
Open  ye  the  land! 

Rise  the  famished  millions 
Driven  off  the  land; 
Spurning  peace   or  plunder, 
Seeking  lust  nor  loot. 
Thralls  to  sloth  no  longer 
The    millions    sluff    the    brute. 

Upright  humans  hungry, 
Fearlessly  they  band. 
Codes  nor  laws  nor  titles! 
O,    governments,    beware — 
Heed  the  need  of  millions — 
Men  who  know  ^nd  dare! 


32        Songs  of  The  Great  Adventure 


THE  WHITE   MAN'S  TOTEM 

Paper  titles  to  idle  acres 

Are  the  crime  and  shame 
Of  Christendom — 
Its  prisons  and  brothels 
Paupers  and  billionaires! 

Paper  titles  to  idle  oil  lands 
Are  gasoline  at  20  cents 
Plus  the  wage  slaveries 
Disemployment  and  slums 
Of  civilization. 

Paper  titles  to  idle  acres 
Are  the  white  man's  idol 
His  totem  and  fetish 
His  bloody  sacrifice 
Of  women   and   children! 


Songs  of  The  Great  Adventure        33 


THAT  THE  LAND  BE  OPENED  TO  MAN 

That  the  land  be  opened  to  the  people. 
That  every  adult  stand  in  actu  or  potenitally  on 

his  own  piece  of  earth 
From  which  only  death  can  dislodge  him. 

That  the  whole  people  say  to  Greed: 

"The  parent  privilege  is  dead:  the  primal  mo- 
nopoly has  ceased:  the  base  of  exploitation 
is  destroyed. 
All  have  access  to  the  earth  without  toll  or 
price." 

That  the  people  say  to  Ignorance: 

"We  have  changed  the  system  of  land  tenure,  on 
which  rested  your  power  to  enslave. 

Every  man  shall  own  himself,  and  by  the  privi- 
lege to  withhold  land  shall  no  man  have 
the  power  to  own  another. 

The  unused  earth  is  free." 

And  if  Doubt  and  Envy  linger  to  question: 
"Why  one  man  will  have  better  land  than  an- 
other— acres  more  fertile,  lots  nearer  mar- 
ket, sites  more  pleasing  for  residence?" 
A  child  may  answer:  "Those  who  hold  the  bet- 
ter sites  will  gladly,  freely  equalize  the 
difference  to  others — when  exploitation's 
necessity  no  longer  stifles  the  better  im- 
pulses: 'tis  a  detail  that  free  men  will 
settle  in  a  manly  way." 

And  the  people  say: 
"But  never  again  shall  Greed  or  Ignorance  gain 


34        Songs  of  The  Great  Adventure 

power  to  rack-rent,  distrain,  wage-slave, 
pauperize,   and   disemploy   the   millions 
Thru  the  primal  curse  of  land  monopoly." 

And  if  Doubt  or  Doctrine  hesitate  and  ask: 

"How    then    with    railroads,    carriers,    utilities, 

banks,  trusts,  and  mines?" 
Even  the  Child  may  answer:   "How  about  them 

now?      Free   land   will    not   increase    their 

power," 
And  the  Student  will  interpose  to  say:    "Free 

land  will  greatly  or  entirely  destroy  their 

power    of    exploitation.     What   is   left   we 

can  then  consider." 

That  the  whole  people  say  to  Greed  and  Ignor- 
ance: 

"There  shall  be  no  mortgage  on  the  bare  land, 
nor  any  title  thereto  but  use  and  occu- 
pance;  land  is  to  live  on,  cultivate,  and 
develop — not  for  speculation. 

None  shall  own  or  hold  of  earth  an  inch  more 
than  he  can  use:  every  idle  lot  or  acre  shall 
be  as  free  as  air  and  sun  to  him  who  needs 
it  for  a  home,  a  store,  a  workshop,  a  gar- 
den, or  a  farm." 

And  if  the  Disputer  arise  with,  "But— If— " 
He  shall  be  silenced  by  a  child  again: 
"These  are  not  issues  for  slaves  to  settle.   Free 
men  each  with  a  foothold  on  the  soil  will 
settle  them  in  a  bold,  kind,  free  way — let 
us  not  doubt." 
And  the  Student  will  add:    "Every  social  and 
industrial  problem,  nay  most  of  the  psycho- 
logic   problems    too,    that    men    now   rack 
their   ingenuity   to    solve,    will   under   free 


That  the  Land  Be  Opened  35 


land  assume  entirely  different  aspects — 
Free  land  will  change  the  surface  and  the  heart 
of  civilization." 

That  the  Human  Heart  thunder  to  the  world: 
"Poverty  is  dead.  Disemployment  is  ended.  The 

earth  is  open. 
The  poor,  the  weak,  the  ignorant,  the  blind  shall 

never  be  trampled  and  vampirized  again 

by  the  withholding  of  the  unused  land — 
For  I  have  bared  the  bosom  of  earth  to  man  and 

in  her  breasts  is  sustenance  inexhaustible." 


36        Songs  of  The  Great  Adventure 


OMITTED   FROM   THE   SPOON   RIVER 
ANTHOLOGY 

I  was  the  leading  singletaxer  in  Spoon  River 
I  organized  its  first  singletax  club 
I  once  saw  Henry  George  himself 
And  I  knew  Louis  F.  Post 
And  Daniel  Kiefer. 

I  wrote  articles  for  the  press 

About  taxation  problems, 

Was  a  fluent  talker 

And  could  prove  the  falsities  of  Karl  Marx 

to  anybody 
But  a  socialist. 

I  was  called  the  John  Z.  White 
Of  Spoon  River, 
We  had  a  flourishing  club, 
With  after  dinner  lectures  and  discussions 
One  a  month — regular. 
And  weekly  luncheons  at  which  we  discussed 

the  shipping  bill  or  the  currency  question 
And  entertained  any  noted  person 
Who  came  to  Spoon  River. 

Singletax  became  favorably  known 
To  the  Better  Elements  of  Society. 
The  congregational  minister 
Preached  a  sermon  on  it. 
We  had  a  debate  at  the  high  school, 
"Resolved  that  singletax  is  scientific." 

We  had  an  exclusive  membership 
Of  cultured  persons 


Omitted  from  Spoon  River  37 

Tirelessly  devoted  to  the  cause  of 
Rational  taxation. 

If  I  had  lived  another  year 

I   would  have   gone   to   the  legislature 

Where  I  could  have  scrutinized 

Every  measure 

In  its  relation  to  the  Philosophy 

Of  singletax. 

But  there  arose  in  our  midst 

A  band  of  irresponsible  agitators 

Who  stirred  up  the  people 

To  open  the  land! 

They  were  emotionalists 

And  would  not  discuss  calmly  a  compromise 

with  those  who  do  not  care  for  the  immediate 

Practise  of  their  preaching. 

They  ranted  about  the  army  of  disemployed, 

About  women  driven  to  prostitution, 

Men  toiling  for  a  pittance, 

Children  as  wage  slaves, 

Babes  starving. 

They  joined  with  socialists. 

Anarchists,  syndicalists,   I.W.W's — 

People  like  that! 

With  anybody  who  would  struggle 
To  change  the  land  tenure 
To  use  and  occupancy 
Right  away! 

I    opposed    them   eloquently 
And  with  stratagem 
For  their  radical  demands 
Would  alienate  from  our  Cause 
The  growing  tolerance  of  the  corporations 
and  business  men, 


38        Songs  of  The  Great  Adventure 

The  interest  of  the  politicians 
And  the  curiosity  of  club  women. 
Bankers,  leading  citizens,  the  daily  press 
Would  view  us  with  distrust. 

Could  anything  be  worse 

For  the  success  of  a  Forward  Movement? 

I  tried  to  rally  the  old  war  horses 

To  stand  by  their  colors 

And  preserve  the  sacred 

And  respectable 

Singletax  philosophy 

In  unsullied  purity 

From  these  anarchists 

And  disturbers. 

But  the  agitators 

Had  the  voting  strength. 

So  Mrs.  Jonesburg  and  I  resigned 

And  started  a  Singletax  Philomathic  Society 

For  the  discussion  of  proper  methods 

To  alleviate  poverty 

Three-quarters  of  an  inch  a  year 

Without  causing  any  annoyance 

To  Existing  Conditions. 

If  I  had  lived 

We  might  have  rehabilitated 

Singletax  in  respectable  circles. 

But  the  idea 

Of  unscientific  people 

Led  by  agitators 

Demanding  the  whole  earth 

Immediately! 

Was  too  great  a  shock. 


Omitted  from  Spoon  River 39 

They  said  I  died 

Of  heart  failure. 

But  I  don't  understand  that 

For  the  autopsy  surgeons 

Couldn't  find  such  an  organ 

And  said  it  had  probably 

Been  absorbed 

In  my  brain  development. 


40        Songs  of  The  Great  Adventure 


WHAT'S  IT  TO  YOU? 

What  is  it  to  you 

That  children  starve  in  a  land  of  plenty 

That  girls  are  driven  to  the  street  for  food  and 

shelter 
And  idle  men  tramp  unused  acres 
And  broken  human  lives  strew  every  pathway — 
What  is  it  to  You? 

Not  only  the  rich  are  guilty 

Of  the  pauperism  that  degrades  humanity 

But  You,  and  all,  who  assent, 

Who  do  less  than  the  most  you  can  do 

To  stay  it.     Your  hands  are  red 

With  the  blood  of  discouraged,  starved. 

Women,  children,  and  men — your  own  kin. 

The  guilt  is  Yours  especially  who  Knowing 

The  cause  of  pauperism 

Do  less  than  you  might  do  to  stay  it. 

What  is  it  to  you  that  children  starve 
Women  whore,  men  steal  or  beg  or  tramp 
Merely  for  bread — in  a  land  of  Wondrous  Plenty— 
What  is  it  to  You? 


Songs  of  the  Great  Adventure        41 


CALIFORNIA 

Now 
And  as  it  has  been  for  many  shameful  years. 
In  a  land  of  wondrous  plenty, 
Richer  than  the  Indies, 
Children  hunger —  Maids 
For  bread  or  ribbons  ply  the  street, 
Mothers  drudge  or  steal  or  starve, 
Or    whore — yes,    for    merely    food    and    shelter  1 
(Who  make  the  thing  shall  hear  the  word) 
Whores   for   bread! — thousands,   thousands 
In  a  land  richer  than  the  Indies! 

Why 

For  lack  of  Faith  and  Courage  in  those  who  Knew 

For  that  the  earth  and  all 

Its  natural  plenty — its  idle,  unused  chances, 

Its  mines  and  wood  and  streams. 

And  fairest,  waiting  acres — all  the 

Source  of  every  human  need  or  heart's  desire — 

Its  rent  and  city  value — its  crops — its  wondrous 

yield! 
All  are  held  by  ancient  paper  titles — 
(Dead  hands  that  clutch  the  living) — held 
By  a  few — from  the  many — and  most  held  idle, 
Held    away    from    idle,    needy,    Living    human 

beings! 

And  Then— 

The  People  of  the  Sitatc  of  California  do  enact  as  follows: 

That  Every  child  have  play  and  plenty 

Every  mother  All  her  needs 

Every  girl  her  ribbons  and  her  beau 


42        Songs  of  The  Great  Adventure 

Every  boy — A  Chance  to  Win! 

Every  man  have  equal  access 

To  the  earth,  its  acres,  mines  and  trees 

Reaping  All  he  sows! 

That  human  faces  upward  turning 

Every  soul  may  grow  and  dare! 


New  Bottles 


44  New  Bottles 


EARTH'S  GOD 

The  Living  God  stands  forth  in  human  birth! 
In  fearlessness  no  power  His  Will  can  girth 

To  hasten  evolution's  toiling  way, 
Release  the  millions,  paradise  the  earth! 


MAN'S    GOD 

When  sundered  chains  release  the  prisoned  mind; 
When  hearts  their  secret  dungeon  Prisoner  find 

And  free! — 'Tis  He;  'tis  only  He  who  can 
Raze  prison  walls  and  fear-bound  man  unbind! 


New  Bottles  45 


SELF    RESPECT 

No  man  is  better  than  I  am, 

This  I  affirm,  and  dare  you  to  prove 

That  any  man 

Is  better  than  I  am. 

No  man  is  worse  than  I  am, 
This  I  admit 

And  challenge  you  to  show 
A  baser  man  than  I  am. 

All  crimes  I  have  thought 

All  virtues  I  have  felt. 

I  am  greedy,  voluptous,  deceitful, 

I  am  generous,  true,  and  courageous. 

We  are  different  shallowly. 

Not  better  or  worse  underneath. 

We  are  what  circumstance  makes  us. 

None  is  better  than  I  am,  and  no  one  worse. 


46  New  Bottles 


THE    UNKNOWN 

Life  is  greater  than  philosophy, 
Than  all  the  schools 
And  systems  of  thought, 
Than  all  the  logicians 
Dead  or  living. 

I  like  to  think 

No  child  will  ever  be  born 

On  a  day  when 

All  the  secrets  of  nature 

Are  known 

And  men  can  read 

All  knowledge 

In  a  printed  book. 

Such  a  little  universe 

Would  stifle  me 

Who  find  the  zest 

The  urge  and  the  joy 

Of  Life 

In  the  vastness  of  the  Unknown. 

Life  is  vaster  than  all 

The  creeds,  doctrines,  theologies. 

Moralities,  religions 

And  philosophies — 

Than  all  the  saviors. 

Saints,  gods,  sages, 

Wise  men  and  foolg, 

Dead,  living. 

Or  yet  to  be  born. 

Life  has  had  a  billion 
Times  a  billion  Interpreters 


The  Unknown  47 


On  this  little  planet  alone 
And  remains — Unknown! 

Every  sentient  creature. 
Is  an  interpreter  of  Life 
And  every  one  interprets 
A  little  differently. 

In  this  lies  not  despair 

Or  even  sadness. 

In  this  lurks  the  lure  of  Life 

And  the  Why  thereof. 

The  deeper,  truer,  bigger 
Joys  of  Life 
Accrue  from  its 
Fearless  exploration. 

Life  would  be  a  prison  cell 

For  the  human  mind 

Shut  in  by  the  printed  page. 

Every  soul  brings 

New  problems  to  Life — 

Multiplies  its  wonderful  mysteries. 

Life  would  be  a  dungeon 
To  the  human  soul 
Could  the  printed  page 
Lessen  the  vastness 
Of  the  Unknown. 


48  New  Bottles 


THE    ONLY    REVOLUTIONARY 

Love  is  the  only  Revolutionary. 
Not  a  supine  submissive  love — 
A  bold  audacious  Love 
That   dares  anything,  everything, 
Even  the  loss  of  Dollars!  ! 
To  gain  its  darling  end. 

A  Love  that  lays  Profit, 
Stocks,  bonds  and  dividends 
On  the  altar  of  its  heart's  desire. 
Its  own  stocks,  and  bonds. 
And  Profit- 
On  the  altar  of  Human  Welfare! 

Such  a  Love  there  is  in  life; 
Millions  of  men  feel  it, 
And  daily  it  shapes 
The  course  of  their  lives — 
Only  in  little  ineffectual  v?ays 
Because — 

Our  aimless,  thoughtless 
Way  of  land  hogging 
Denies  Love  at  the  base 
And  beginning  of  life. 
Bringing  to  naught. 
Turning  to  ashes 

Turning  to  fear. 

To  unfaith,  cruelty 

And  self-righteous  littleness 

All  the  fruit  that  ripens 

From  our  fondest,  boldest, 


New  Bottles  49 


Broadest  human  love. 

Where  human  life  begins 
We  will  carry  our  Love 
And  end  the  shameless, 
Heartless  barter 
Of  human  flesh  and  soul 
For  bread  or  dividends. 


AS  TO  HATE 

I  don't  hate  the  spider  that  I  kill, 
But  hate  the  narrow  life  I  lead 
In  which  there  isn't  room  enough 
For  a  spider  and  myself. 

The  soldier  doesn't  hate  the  foe  he  slays, 
Nor  the  lion  hate  the  lamb  he  eats, 
I  will  not  hate  the  men  whose 

tenure  of  earth 
Has  pauperized  the  millions — 


50  New  Bottles 


THE   NATIVITY 

Plead  not  with  heaven's  alien  Gods  to  bless 

Some  Holy  Babe  and  Mother  far  away. 

Be  thou  thyself  the  God  whose  power  shall  stay 
With  human  sympathy  and  love's  access 
Whom  never  Gods  bend  earthward  to   caress — 

The  Hungry  Babes  and  Mothers  of  Today! 

Seek  thou  the  Lowly  Mothers  first,  for  they 
Need  most  the  touch  of  manhood's  tenderness. 

Round  every  Infant  brow  an  aureole  gleams 
However   starved  by  Greed's  brutality. 

The  holy  Mother  in  each  Mother  dreams 
Above  the  Infant  cradled  on  her  knee. 

Sing  not  of  ancient  Gods  and  ancient  themes — 
All  Babes  enshrine  whatever  Gods  there  be! 

Freely  adapted  from  one  of  Alys  Thompson's  sonnet 
sequences  in  The  Year's  Rosary. 


New  Bottles  51 


THE   ONLY    DANGER 

Fear  is  the  World  Lust! 
Obsessing  human  life — 
Poisoning  its  springs  of  desire, 
Glooming  its  sunlight  of  love, 
Trailing  its  shadows 
Over  every  natural  joy  that  bursts 
The  heavy  bonds  of  superstition. 
Sans  Fear  life  is  worth  while. 

Fear  is  the  Serpent  in  the  Garden! 
Fascinating  the  soul 
To  weakness  and  despair. 
Drawing  the  feet 
Always  in  lessening  arcs 
To  the  tomb's  embrace. 
Death  were  cheated  but  for  Fear. 

Fear  is  the  Mother  of  Sin! 
Dashing  to  the  mud 
The  soul's  reach  starward; 
DefiHng  the  Garden's 
Rose-laden  air 
With  stench  of  the  Puritan. 
On  the  warp  of  Fear  is  woven 
All  that  swineherds  call  sin. 

Fear  dethrones  the  true  God! 
Robs  man  of  faith  in — Himself! 
Skulking  Fear 
Of  pain,  of  death,  of  loss — 
Ignoble  Fear  to  stand  alone! 
Sans  Fear  of  tomorrow 
Man  will  reach  his  Godhood. 


52  New  Bottles 


THE    ONLY    VIRTUE 

That  pluck  abide  with  kindness, 
Courage  stay  with  thought, 
Daring  and  decency  be  friends, 
InteUigence  evade  mushiness. 
Sympathy  sidestep  impotence, 
Love  remain  virile  to  the  end. 

That  the  strength  and  the  hardness  of  steel 

In  the  hour  for  action 

Come  from  the  deeps  of  Men 

Who  can  think  and  feel! 

That  brutality,  sentimentality, 
Aimlessness,  stupidity,  froth. 
With  cunning,  greed  and  gluttony, 
Be  not  the  sole  possessors 
Of  manhood's  only  virtue — 
Courage! 


New  Bottles  53 


TO    KEEP    THE    IDEAL 

Have  you  a  love  that  you  would  keep? 

Pour  it  out  into  a  larger  love. 

Have  you  a  friendship  you  would  hold? 

Share  it  with  the  world. 

Have  you  an  ideal  you  would  not  lose? 

Lay  it  on  the  Altar  to  Man. 

Nothing  is  an  end  in  itself. 

Everything  is  only  a  means  to  something  else. 

Satiety  is  the  only  sin. 

Only  what  is  given  can  be  kept. 

What  is  hoarded  turns  to  Ashes. 

Nothing  is  stationary. 

Treasure  grows  or  lessens. 

This  is  true  of  a  love,  a  friendship,  or  an  ideal. 

To  keep  it,  share  it. 

Love  is  not  an  end  in  itself, 

But  a  means  of  human  growth. 

Everything  is  for  use. 

Nothing  is  "for  keeps," 

Things,  qualities,  thoughts,  feelings — 

The  world  and  its  contents 

Tangible  and  imponderable — 

Are  for  the  growth  of  Man. 

You  have  heard  this  before 

And  gushed  over  it,  no  doubt. 

Now  stop  the  gush  and  get  it  into  your  system 

Live  it!     Save  your  love, 

Hold  your  friendship. 

Keep  your  ideal 

By  use  I 


54  New  Bottles 


ANTINOMIES 

I  will  not  ask  of  Life 
More  than  I  am 
Willing  to  pay  for. 

I  will  not  seek 

To  be  drunk  and  sober 

At  the  same  moment — 

Drunk  of  wine,  women,  thought, 
music,  poetry,  of  the  wild 
splendors  of  nature,  or  the 
beautiful  creations  of  art. 

I  will  not  ask  of  Life 

Joy  without  effort, 

Health  without  care. 

Wealth  without  work. 

The  approval  of  my  neighbors 

Without  consideration 

For  their  welfare. 

I  will  not  seek  in  Life 

For  the  blending  of  opposites. 

Nor  an  ultimate  God. 

I  will  not  expect 
Gluttony  without  satiety, 
Drink  without  remorse, 
Excess  without  lassitude. 
Anger  without  regret. 
Hate  without  grief. 

I  will  seek  no  thornless  Rose, 
Nor  curse  heaven 
At  the  scratches. 


New  Bottles  55 


I  will  seek  the  essence 
Of  the  Rose 
And  avoid  its  thorns — 
When  I  can. 


A   MAN'S   PRAYER 

0  distant  God 

If  Thou  art  in  heaven 
Or  anywhere — 

1  don't  know. 

Thou  hast  not  revealed 

Thyself  to  me — 

Yet  hopefully, 

Anxious  to  miss  no  point — 

O  alien  God 

If  Thou  art  outside  of  man 

Give  me  power  to  combat 

The  bigotry  hate  envy 

Of  Thy  devotees, 

The  tortures  crimes  cruelties 

Perpetrated 

For  Thy  glory. 


56  New  Bottles 


THE    OLD    ART 

The  old  art  makes  man 

The  scapegoat 

Of  creeds,  conventions,  moralities. 

Gloats  over  the  soul's  efforts 

To  disentangle  itself 

From  artificial   codes. 


THE   NEW  ART 

The  new  art  leaves  man 

Above   moralities, 

And  seeks  its  unities 

In  the  human  struggle 

Out  of  the  web 

Of  the  exploiter's  conventions. 


New  Bottles  57 


LIFE    LURES 

Life  lures 

To  fresh  endeavors. 

Is  it  only  a  lure? 

Life  beckons 

To  new  adventures. 

Must  all  fail? 

Life  reveals 
Higher   aspirations. 
Shall  none  satisfy? 

Life  shows 

Another  peak — 

Yes,  the  peaks  are  endless. 

Mountains  pile 
On  mountains — 
Still  a  higher  summit. 

Life  leads 
Upward,  upward — 
If  one  be  unafraid! 

Life — halts 

The  climber  and  says 

Take  the  crowd  along! 

What  a  lonely 

Heaven,  with 

Only  one  soul  in  it! 


58  New  Bottles 


THE   BLIND   GODDESS 

Symbol  of  a  darker  age — 

Hewn  by  men  who  feared  the  gods; 

Nor  sensed  the  Silver  Thread 

Nor  knew  the  bond  of  kinship. 

She  holds  the  scales  of  Shylock 
To  weigh  a  pound  of  human  flesh. 

Symbol  of  the  Jealous  God — 
Conceived  by  Envy 
That  hoards  its  own  and  counts 
The  crumbs  eaten  by  another. 

Scales  weigh  only  gold  and  goods. 

Scales  weigh  never  motive. 

Symbol  of  the  tradesman's  age — 
When  things  count  more  than  humans 
And  children's  flesh  balances  dividends 
And  property  weighs  more  than  life  or  hope. 

Lust  and  hate  alone  are  blind. 

Love  sees  with  a  million  eyes. 

Symbol  of  superstition — 

Born  in  the  night  of  man's  great  fear. 

Sponsored  by  monk  and  mercenary, 

Dipped  in  the  blood  of  heretics. 

There  is  no  justice  without  mercy. 
Care,  thought,  understanding,  and  love. 

Symbol  of  materiality — 

Chiseled  by  bound  slaves 

To  weigh  surfaces  and  appearances; 

Blind — all  blind — to  the  Inner  God. 
Sign  of  slave  and  tyrant — 
Give  us  the  emblem  of  Democracy. 


The  Blind  Goddess 59 

Symbol  of  submission — 

Fashioned  by  men  afraid  to  love; 

Denial  of  man's  divinity.    Serving 

The  ancient  Greed  and  the  modern  Privilege. 

Give  us  a  marble  cut  by  free  men. 

Give  us  a  symbol  with  a  Soul! 


60  New  Bottles 


HUMILITY 

Humility  is  the  crowning  virtue. 

Dare  slaves  assume  it? 

The  attribute  of  gods,  kings,  rulers — even  of  one 

who  might  rule  self! 
On  the  brow  of  the  mighty  having  power  over  all 
Humility  is  the  brightest  jewel  in  the  last  and 

most  resplendent  sceptre. 
Dare  slaves  reach  for  it? 

Humility — so  large  a  jewel — 

Would  bow  the  head  of  God  Almighty 

So  he  could  see  the  chains  of  slaves 

And  strike  them  off. 

By  this  sign  ye  shall  know  the  True  God — 

That  having  all  power  he  ask  nothing 

And  raise  all  men  to  his  stature! 

Humility  never  graced  the  life  of  slave  or 

underling: 
Servility  bows  them. 

Subaltern  and  slave  whose  breasts  burnt  not 
With  hot  flames  of  unceasing 
Rebellion — 

Who  patiently  wait,  submit,  and  argue 
While  children  toil  and  women  starve 
Amid  plenty — 
Know  not  humility,  but  Cowardice! 


New  Bottles  61 


WANTED  — MEN 

Wanted — Men ! 
Able-bodied  men, 
Bold-hearted  men, 
To  enlist  in  a  holy  war 
Against  poverty. 

Wanted — Men! 

To  fight  for 

Women  and  children 

As  bravely  as 

For  kings  and  queens. 

Wanted — Men ! 

A  million   men 

To  brave  death  and  torture 

Gallows  and  prisons — 

To  dethrone  Privilege. 

Wanted — Men ! 

To  dare  as  much  for  human 

beings  in  America 
As  for  property  "rights" 
In  Europe. 

Wanted — Men ! 

To  wrest  from 

Greed  and  monopoly 

The  unused  land  of  America — 

Men  unafraid. 


^"'    //^^- 


--^ 


f^^-'  ^ 


62  New  Bottles 


NO   MAN'S  KEEPER 

I  am  no  man's  keeper. 
No  jail  keys 
Rattle  in  my  head 
Or  heart. 

If  I  am  not 

My  brother's  helper 

When  I  may  be 

The  loss  is  equally  my  own. 

I  will  keep  no  one — 
His  conscience 
His  judgment 
Or  his  earnings. 

Keepers  bring  jails 
And  gallows. 
Keepers  are  tyrants 
In  hate  or  in  love. 

Not  your  way,  but  mine 
Would  I  go — kindly. 
The  soul  hungers  most 
For  Self  expression. 

The  urge  of  life 
Is  to  Individual  difference. 
Keepers,  in  love  or  hate, 
Make  the  discord — 

Sad  confusion  of  thought 
That  harbors  the  exploiter! 
Man  is  his  brother's  helper. 
Not  his  keeper. 


New  Bottles  63 


To  help  is  love's  way: 
Anon  to  bind  a  wound; 
Usually  not  to  rob 
And  never  to  hinder. 


THAT    I    MAY    STRIVE 

That  I  may  die  in  strife 
'Gainst  slavery! 
Teeth  set,  hands  clenched 
To  every  static  bond 
In  Christendom. 

That  death  find  me 

Far  out  from  the  ranks, 

Strike  quick 

And  fell  me  face  forward, 

Hating  all  that  limits  man. 

Life's  joy  is  its  strife, 

The  battle  'gainst  odds 

Its  oil,  its  wine,  and  its  bread: 

O!   to  fall  under  fire 

And  escape  a  smug  death  in  bed! 


64  New  Bottles 


A    NEW    VALOR 

A  new  valor  stirs  the  blood 

Of  Men. 

They  shall  despoil 

The  strong,  the  rich,  the  mighty, 

Whoever  hath  overmuch 

Where  many  starve. 

Boldly,  wdth  conscious  dignity 

Men  shall  rob  the  over-rich. 

It  is  taught  that 
Love  shall  be  slavish 
And  kindness  meek. 
On  this  is  founded 
The  christian  cruelties. 
But  the  new  valor 
Brings  power  to  Love, 
And  daring  to  kindness. 

The  old  valor  saith 

That  from  those  who  have  not 

Shall  be  taken 

And  to  those  who  have 

Shall  be  given  more. 

Thus  do  the  christians 

As  told  in  their  books — 

The  creed  of  cravens. 

Thus  is  it  vsnritten  in  ink 

By  long-dead  hands 

Palsied  with  fear, 

In  tomes  rotten 

Of  the  centuries'  dust. 

The  moving  Finger  writes 


A  New  Valor  65 


In  blood 

From  the  heart  of  Men. 

And  it  says: 

Kindness  shall  be 

Bolder  than  hate! 

It  stirs  a  new  valor 

In  men  unafraid 

Who  shall  despoil  the  rich 

And  unseat  Profit 

That  all  may  have  enough. 

The  new  valor  stirs 
To  action! 

The  weak,   the   ignorant 
Shall  not  be  robbed 
By  the  cunning. 
Kindness  shall   thunder 
To  lust:     You  alone 
Shall  be  robbed. 

And  the  voice  will 
Be  heard! 

The  lowly  and  the  poor 
Shall  not  be  coddled — 
Thus  do  the  christians 
In  charity — 
But  hear  ye  the 
Thunder  of  Kindness: 
They  shall  not  be  robbed! 


66  New  Bottles 


HATE  IS  FORCE 

Hate  is  a  strong  force. 
I  will  hate  the  chains  of  men — 
The  institutions,  superstitions, 
And  conditions  that  bind  them. 

A  good  hater  is  a  strong  man — 
But  I  will  not  hate  myself, 
Which  is  part  of  all  other  selves. 
I  will  hate  things,  not  men. 

I  will  hate  gods,  creeds,  states, 
And  all  that  belittles  Man. 
I  will  hate  words  and  ideas 
That  enslave  men. 

Who  hate  men  have  little  hate 
For  the  chains  that  bind  them, 
And  little  force  or  care 
To  break  the  chains 
At  whatever  cost. 


New  Bottles  67 


BE    STRONG    FIRST 

Masters  teach  their  slaves 
To  "turn  the  other  cheek" 
When  they  are  beaten. 
But  the  new  valor 
Will  brook  no  blow. 

Masters  teach  their  slaves 
To  be  long-suffering 
Under   oppression. 
But  the  new  valor 
Will  slay  the  oppressor. 

Masters  teach  their  slaves 
Be  good,  be  moral, 
And  you  shall  have 
First  choice  of  the  crumbs 
From  our  table. 

But  the  new  valor  says 
Be  strong,  be  bold, 
And  rout  your  masters — 
Only  strength  is  good, 
And  weakness  sin. 

Only  strength  can  win. 
Be  strong  first! 
Life  and  the  world 
And  all  their  good 
Are  for  the  strong. 


68  New  Bottles 


THE    NEW    POWER 

O  then  to  Think 
Means  not  to  Feel? 
The  Head  must  not 
Take  counsel  of  the  Heart? 
Thus  teach  the  christians. 

Thought  in  one  tank, 

Feeling  in  another — 

Ce  n'est  pas  comme  il  faut 

To  mingle  thought  and  feeling 

In  a  single  act. 

So  do  the  christians. 

But  a  new  light  flashes 

To  pierce  the  christian  gloom — 

A  wondrous  birth — 

From  the  union 

Of  Head  and  Heart. 

Lo,  the  Intellect 

And  the  Soul  are  wed! 

Coward  Words  go  tumbling 

To  the  ash  heap, 

And  Deeds  accomplish! 

The  new  birth  is  Sympathy. 
Froth  of  easy  sentiment 
And  cruelty  of  intellect 
It  banishes:  the  child 
Of  the  fusion  leads! 

The  bank  wants  human  feeling. 
Religion's  lack  is  thought. 


The  New  Power  69 


The  market-place  needs  poetry. 
Art  needs  sense  and  depth  and  care. 
Slavery  lurks  in  aimlessness! 

Lo,  the  Heart  and  Head 

Are  wedded! 

Come — 

To  Greed  a  bolder  foe, 

To  Love  a  deeper  meaning. 

To  the  Many,  at  last.  Power! 


70 


New  Bottles 


THE  LOVE  OF  GOLD  OR  THE 
LOVE  OF  MAN 

I  never  knew  a  man 

Who  feared  not  the  alien  God 

Nor  loved  him,  but  was  the   kinder 

To  his  neighbor 

And  had  a  fine,  firm 

Faith  in  Men. 

I  never  knew  a  thief 

Or  forger  but  feared  an  alien  God 

And  loved  him — 

A  sneak,  a  pimp,  or 

A  detective,  but  confessed 

A  distant  God  and  feared  him. 

Maybe 

(Tho  I  have  not  met  one) 

An  "atheist"  could  also 

Be  cold  and  vicious. 

But  the  million  babes  in  arms 

And  playful  children 

Are  starved  and  tortured 

In  the  name  of  a  heavenly 

God  and  Jesus. 

In  the  love  of  the  alien  God 

Lies  the  hate  of  man 

And  full  extenuation 

For  all  the  bloody  murder 

The  weeping,  christian  world 

Has  ever  seen. 


Love  of  Gold  or  Man  71 


The  "love  of  God" 

Means  the  love  of  Gold 

And  ever  has,  by  far  and  large, 

And  ever  must. 

The  "love  of  God" 

Brings  the  love  of  Gold. 

For  man  cannot 
Love  an  Abstraction. 
The  human  heart  impinges 
Seeks  the  Tangible. 

In  God  the  heart  is  cheated. 
And  the  cheated  heart 
Turns  to  Gold. 

I  announce  a  new  faith, 
A  new  hope, 
A  new  religion 
(Older  than  the  hills)— 
The  love  of  Men! 


72  New  Bottles 


HATE  GODS,  LOVE  MEN 

Ye  are  taught  to  love  gods — 
The  creed  of  slaves. 
Ye  shall  be  masters  of  self 
And  of  none  other  than  self, 
When  ye  shall  cease  to 
Love  any  god  and  center 
Hope  and  thought  and  love 
And  interest  on  Man. 

Ye  are  taught  to  fear  gods — 

Dogmas  of  cowrardice. 

Those  vi^ho  fear  neither 

God  nor  Satan 

Are  your  masters  and  exploiters. 

Ye  shall  fear  nothing. 

Ye  shall  cease  to  fear 

And  dare  all. 

Ye  shall  find  Self 

Each  man  himself — 

When  all  gods  under  all  aliases 

Shall  be  dethroned. 

Not  law,  evolution,  the  state, 

Prosperity,  posterity, 

Progress,  or  providence — 

But  Man  (each  to  himself) 

Shall  be  first. 

Ye  shall  hate  gods  and  love  Men. 
Ye  shall  love  even  Self 
And  seek  self-interest  first; 
Not  behind  lying  cant 
As  do  the  christians, 


Hate  Gods,  Love  Men  73 


But  openly  and  with 
Much  pains  to  discover 
The  real  interests  of  Self. 

Ye  shall  know  Self 

The  true  Self 

The  v/hole  Self 

The  body,  mind,  and  soul 

Of  self — when  gods  are  forgotten 

And  care  and  thought 

Are  centered 

On  Man! 

In  the  love  of  gods 

Lies  the  hate  of  Man, 

For  none  serves  two  masters. 

The  hate  of  Man 

Breeds  the  needless  grief 

And  pain  unutterable 

Of  Christendom — 

Hate  gods  and  love  Men. 

In  the  fear  of  gods 

Lie  sin  and  weakness. 

Here  is  true  valor: 

That  ye  fear  not  the  Unknown. 

Fearless  of  which  ye  shall  be 

Strong  for  the  tortures 

And  prisons  of  Greed 

And  attain — Comradeship. 


74  New  Bottles 


THE   MASTER   MOTIVE 

Superficial  appeals  to  the  human  crowd 

Its  pocket-book  and  its  cupidity 

Its  business  interests,  personal  advantage, 

Will  bring  superficial  results 

A  million  of  which  multiplied  by  a  million 

Will  not  produce  a  profundity — 

Nor  a  tangible  inch  of  freedom. 

Human  freedom  is  the  profoundest  thing 
The  heart  and  mind  can  reach 
Or  has  any  decent  right  to  try  to  reach 
While  human  lives  are  wrecked  by  Greed 
Every  day  and  hour  before  our  eyes — 
While  the  mortality  and  destitution  of  Profit 
Exceeds  the  death  roll  of  the  world  war. 

When  the  primal  passions 

Are  stirred  the  mass  will  Act, 

Unitedly  and  spontaneously 

To  compass  great  and  vital  issues 

For  good  or  for  ill 

For  construction  or  destruction 

For  Death  or  for  Life! 

So  moves  the  human  mass 

So  is  it  moved  toward  the  Ideal 

By  the  inextinguishable  human  Urge 

For  Something — something  Better 

Than  the  personal  end — 

It  knows  not  what 

But  is  spurred  ever  by  the  Ideal. 

So  is  the  human  mass. 
Would  you  move  it 


The  Master  Motive  75 


To  its  own  unfoldment — 

From  the  damned  death  psychology 

Of  Profits'  world  war? 

Touch  its  heart. 

The  greatest,  strongest,  deepest 

Primal  instinct  of  every  being 

The  "master  motive  of  human  action" 

The  "force  of  forces" 

That  alone  can  reach  freedom 

Is  the  impulse  of  expansion — 

We  call  it  Love. 

Not  the  servile  patient 

Slave  "love"  of  christian  theology. 

By  that  rules  the  Exploiter. 

The  deep  unfearing  audacious  Love 

That  sees  the  Goal  alone 

Leaps  the  chasm  blindly 

Fells  like  fire  the  Foe. 

Nothing  less  will  break  the  war  spell 

Or  stem  the  wave  of  slaughter 

For  greed  of  wealth. 

Or  turn  the  mass  thought 

From  Death  machines 

To  welfare — 

To  life  and  hope  and  growth. 

Nothing  less  will  gain 

An  inch  of  human  freedom 

Or  strike  the  chains  from  wage  slaves 

Or  turn  the  children 

And  the  nursing  mothers  from  the  alleys 

To  a  free  and  open  earth. 

Nothing  less! 


76  New  Bottles 


THE  STATE 

The  strength  of  the  State 

Is  the  weakness  of  the  People — 

Its  wealth  is  their  poverty 

Its  dignity  is  their  degradation. 

Mighty  State- 
Little  Manhood! 
Rome  reared  its  splendor 
On  sixty  million  slaves. 

The  pomp  of  the  State 

Is  the  servility  of  the  People — 

Its  pride  is  their  shame 

Its  glitter  is  their  gloom. 

The  State  is  a  superstition, 
Heartless,  bloodless,  beingless 
Save  as  it  draws  sustenance 
From  living  creatures. 

The  palaces  of  the  State 
Are  the  hovels,  the  slums. 
And  the  mortgaged  homes 
Of  the  People. 

The  richest  State 
Means  the  poorest  People 
And  the  greatest  cruelty 
Of  the  fev/  to  the  many. 


The  Naked  Truth 


78  The  Naked  Truth 


STARK  WINTER 

In  the  summer 

I  will  sing  of  flowers 

And  fling  pretty  phrases 

At  the  hearts 

Of  fair  women. 

I  will  image  palaces  of  hope 
And  social  structures 
Where  human  beings 
Might  live  and  strive 
Without  hate. 

In  the  summer 

When  the  pulse  throbs 

Atune  with  earth's 

Creative  impulse. 

In  the  winter 

As  thru  a  lense  I  see 

Life's  barbarities  and  superstitions 

Focalized. 

I  see  broken  lives, 
Starving  children, 
Mortgaged  homes; 
Love  lost  or  defiled 
For  profit  or  for  bread; 
Power's  cruelty  to  the  weak. 

I  long  for  the  summer 

Of  roses  and  hope, 

But  may  the  winter  of  reality 

Ever  stir  me  to  act. 

For  only  action 

Brings  the  Ideal. 


The  Naked  Truth  79 


WHO  ARE  THE  STRONG? 

Is  it  Great  to  mulct  the  little, 
Or  Fine  to  cheat  the  poor? 
Do  the  Strong  oppress  the  lowly, 
Wring  taxes  from  the  landless? 

Does  Strength  beat  cripples, 
Or  Courage  starve  women? 
Is  it  Masterful  to  strike  the  blind, 
Or  crush  a  weakling? 

Such  is  christian  valor — 
To  hang  the  daring  bandit. 
Enrich  and  honor 
The  craven  exploiter! 

We  cripple  the  weak, 
Trample  the  meek. 
Despoil  the  ignorant, 
Starve  the  infant  at  birth. 

Even  charity  is  graft. 
And  we  boast 
Of  Strength  and  Courage! 
Who  are  the  Strong? 


80  The  Naked  Truth 


BE  TRUTHFUL 

Lie  to  others  if  you  must — 
To  the  jealous  wife, 
The  importune  creditor. 

It   will   save   you 
Much  trouble 
If  you  don't. 

But — if  you  must — 
Lie  to   your  tradesmen 
And  your  mistress — 

Sell  goods  by  lying, 
Gain  what  you  will 
By   falsehood — 

So  wags  the  world. 
Or  appears  to. 
But— 

Tell  yourself  the  truth. 
"I  am  a  knave  and  a  liar," 
Say  often. 

Deceive  others  if  you  must, 

Tho  courage  finds  it  seldom  necessary- 

But— 

"I  am  a  liar  and  a  knave" 
Say  to  yourself 
Frequently. 

It  is  better  not  to  lie 
Very  much.      But — 
Tell  yourself  the  truth! 


Be  Truthful  81 


No  one  is  wholly 
Truthful,  in   Christendom — 
But  don't  lie  to  yourself. 

"I  am  a  scoundrel" — 
Say  it  often  in  secret. 
You  are! 

Who  is  not  in   Christendom? 
Don't  He 
To  yourself. 


BUSINESS 

I  am  a  business  man. 

I  must  cheat,  haggle,  exploit. 

Ninety-five  per  cent  of  us  fail 

Because  we  cannot  kill 

All  our  human  qualities 

And  remain  to  the  end  tricksters  and  brutes. 

I  am  a  business  man. 
In  my  heart  I  loathe  it. 
Deep  within  me  was  a  hunger 
For  life  and  love  and  friendship 
That  I  have  almost  strangled. 

I  am  a  business  man. 

Who  has  Succeeded! 

After  long  years  of  bitter  strife 

And  preying  on  the  weak 

I  have  won  these  Ashes. 


82  The  Naked  Truth 


CULTURE 

I  am  tired  of  art  and  beauty 
And  all  their  tinsel  twaddle; 
I  am  tired  of  logic  and  philosophy 
And  all  their  endless  chatter; 
I  am  heart-sick  and  soul-tired 
Of  Culture- 
While  a  million  children  starve! 


BOTTOM  FACTS 

They  seize  the  earth — 
its  ore,  coal,  oil,  and 
timber,  hold  the  larger 
part  idle  and  sell  the 
product  for  what  they 
please:  that's  the  bottom 
fact  of  High  Prices. 

They  seize  the  earth — 
its  unused  fertile  acres, 
and  hold  them  out  of  use, 
which  crowds  the  city 
with  workers  who  must 
bid  against  each  other  for 
jobs:  that's  the  bottom 
fact  of  Low  Wages. 


The  Naked  Truth  83 


I    AM    FREE 

I  am  free 

To  choose,  sometimes, 
Which  master  of  the  earth 
I  may  elect  to  serve. 

I  am  free 

To  sell  myself,  if  I  can  find  a  buyer, 

For  enough  to  feed 

And  clothe  myself. 

I  am  free 

To  beg,  or  steal,  if  I  can. 

Or  starve — 

In  a  land  glutted  with  wealth- 

I  am  free 

To  pinch  and  screw  and  save 

And  give  the  best  energies  of  my  life 

Merely  to  gain  a  roof. 

I  am  free 

To  wander  homeless 

Over  twenty-three  hundred  million  acres  mostly 

vacant,  unused. 
In  search  of  a  job. 

I  am  free 

To  push  out  a  worker 

And  take  a  job 

From  one  whose  need  may  be  greater  than  mine. 

I  am  free 

To  be  a  prostitute,  beggar,  thief, 

Or  to  tramp  with  the  disemployed. 


84  The  Naked  Truth 


PREPAREDNESS 

Thieves  go  well  armed. 

Assassins,  detectives 

Manhunters 

Must  alw^ays  be  prepared 

Against  invasion — 

A  troublesome  necessity 

Of  their  calling. 

Houses  that  shelter 
Stolen  goods, 
Houses  that  sell 
Woman's  bodies. 
Homes  of  the  insane, 
Jails  and  penitentiaries 
Need  guns,  bars,  and  guards 
Violence  always  threatens. 

Homes  of  billionaires 
Where  are  gathered 
In  monstrous  superfluity 
Wealth  rended  from 
Countless  broken  lives 
And  homeless  paupers — 
Need  a  vast  army 
To  protect  them. 

Banks  that  hoard 
Working  capital 
From  tradesmen 
Until  their  necessities 
Wring  blood  usury 
Need  more  than  time  locks 
And  steel  vaults 
To  save  them. 


Preparedness    85 


Titles  to  idle  acres, 

Mortgages  on  homes, 

The  penal  code, 

Privileges  and  monopolies, 

Sweatshops, 

Slums 

Gallows — 

Need  much  "preparedness.' 

The  house  of  exploitation 

Is  safeguarded 

By  murder. 

Despoliation  fattens 

On  the  war  psychology. 

Chains  rattle 

Above  the  roar 

Of  death  machinery. 


86  The  Naked  Truth 


THREE  BLOOD  BROTHERS 


I  am  Palaver — 
Of  many  aliases: 
Security  of  the  State, 
National  Honor, 
Civilization,  Humanity — 
The  spoken  or  written 
Word,  to  which 
The  Individual 
Is  forever  sacrificed 
By  Greed. 

I  am  Cant  the  hypocrite, 
Loved  and  feared 
By  ignorance 

II 

I  am  Patriotism — 

Provincial  and  bigoted; 
Hating  all  but  my  own, 
Ready  to  persecute 
And  murder 
For  a  word  or  a  look 
Alien  to  my  understanding. 
I  am  the  little  heart 
And  the  narrow  brain. 
I  am  ignorance,  creed. 
And  the  church. 
I  am  he  who  kills 
And  dies  for  Greed. 


The  Naked  Truth  87 


III 

am  Profit — 

The  modern  Moloch, 

The  western  Juggernaut, 

The  only  essential 

Individualist 

The  world  has  ever  known. 

For  me  all  things  exist 

And  all  creatures. 

On  my  altars 

Are  spread 

The  life  of  childhood, 

The  heart  of  manhood, 

The  souls  of  women. 


88  The  Naked  Truth 


WE'RE    GOING    TO    HANG   A    BOY    IN 
CALIFORNIA 

We're  going  to  hang  a  boy — 

Twelve  men,  a  regular  physician,  a  schooled 
jurist,  and  a  cityfull  of  righteous  people  have 
condemned — a  boy  of  eighteen. 

Whom  the  wisest  of  earth,  its  saviors,  prophets, 
and  sages,  have  refrained  from  judging; 
whom  the  Central  Figure  of  the  era  (in 
whose  name  the  nations  are  filled  with 
temples)  admonished  the  world  to  "Judge 
Not" — twelve  men,  a  regular  physician,  a 
schooled  jurist,  and  a  cityfull  of  righteous 
people  have  not  only  judged  but  condemned 
— a  boy  of  eighteen. 

We're  going  to  hang  a  boy — 

Not  in  passion's  blinding  mists,  or  youth's  high 

fever  that  riots  thru  distended  veins  and  over- 
throws the  inner  God. 
Not  in  lightning  spur  to  lust  of  blood — the  quick 

flowering  of  an  atavistic  germ  from  cave  and 

forest. 
Not  for  a  sudden  clot  that  bursts  a  tiny  vein 

and  floods  a  lobe  and  clouds  the  mental  vision. 
Not  for  a  flashing  impact  on  a  nerve  that 

reaches  from  the  spleen  and  dethrones  the 

clay's  master. 

We're  going  to  hang  a  boy — 
To  uphold  the  majesty  of  the  law,  maintain  the 
dignity  of  the   State — a  boy  of  eighteen — to 
prove  that  California  is  an  order-loving 
commonwealth. 


We're  Going  to  Hang  a  Boy  89 

Three  million  people  against  a  boy  of  eighteen. 
We  will  hang  him  to  prove  our  courage,  our 

virtue,  and  our  civilization. 
And  the  church  of  Jesus  Christ  is  approvingly 

silent. 

We're  going  to  hang  a  boy — 

A  jury,  a  doctor,  and  a  "Daniel  come  to 
judgment"  have  condemned  a  boy — read  his 
heart,   searched  his   soul,   pierced   the   secret 
chambers  of  his  mind,  laid  bare  the  human 
ego,  and  found  it  all  bad! 

A  jury,  a  doctor  of  physics,  and  a  Daniel,  have 
measured  the  surging  impulses  of  hot  youth, 
balanced  the  force  of  impact  and  impulsion, 
read  the  record  of  the  motor  brain  areas — 

And  found  the  boy  sane  and  bad — quite  sane  and 
all  bad,  and  have  ordered  him  hanged. 

We're  going  to  hang  a  boy — 

We  hope.  The  sentence  may  not  stand — ah, 
well,  we  have  had  our  orgie. 

We  have  gloated  at  the  spectacle  in  court. 

The  mother  moaned,  the  sister  screamed,  the 
boy  was  bold — then  cowed  by  the  brave  and 
manly  judge,  he  trembled,  hid  his  face  in  his 
hands,  as  the  fatal  words  of  the  learned  judge 
fell — manly,  learned,  righteous  judge — (I'd 
rather  be  a  wolf.) 

Tho  the  hangman  be  cheated,  we  have  had 
our  orgie. 

We  have  heard  the  mother  moan,  the  sister 
scream,  and  seen  the  boy  tremble! 

We're  going  to  hang  a  boy — 
A  bad  boy.  Why  is  he  bad, because  he  murdered? 
Then  is  he  sane  because  he  murdered?     Or 
did  he  murder  because  he  was  sane? 


90 The  Naked  Truth 

Did  the  doctor  measure  the  boy's  sanity  by  his 
own?     Would  the  doctor  do  murder?     Is  it 
only  fear  of  hanging  that   keeps  the  doctor 
from  murdering?    Then  the  boy  were  a  braver 
soul.     If  the  doctor  will  consider  why  he 
would  not  murder,  he  will  reach  a  truer 
measure  of  the  boy's  sanity. 

If  the  doctor  has  a  better  test  of  sanity  than 
murder  is,  he  is  wiser  than  God. 

We're  going  to  hang  a  boy — 

Unless  the  supreme  court  intervenes — or  the 
governor. 

Why  are  we  going  to  hang  the  boy?  To  show 
that  murder  is  wrong? — but  we  are  going  to 
murder  him..  Murder  means  killing.  We  are 
going  to  kill  the  boy — we  hope — 

We  kill  to  show  that  killing  is  wrong.  We  are 
not  only  a  brave  people — three  million  against 
one  boy;  we  are  also  a  sensible,  rational,  in- 
telligent people. 

If  it  is  wrong  to  kill,  why  do  we  kill? 

We're  going  to  hang  a  boy — 

Eighteen  years  from  God.     Take  him  back, 

God,  he's  bad,  all  bad,  not  fit  to  live  with  the 

three   million  inhabitants  of   California. 
Murder  is  right;  we  are  going  to  murder  a  boy. 
It's  the  boy  that's  bad,  not  murder. 
Why  is  the  boy  bad?  because  he  is  sane;  if  he 

were  not  sane  he  would  not  be  bad  and  we 

would  not  hang  him. 
Take  him  back,  God — we  reject  him;  he's  all  bad 

— a  bad  boy  not  fit  to  live  with  us. 

We're  going  to  hang  a  boy — 
Why  are  we  going  to  hang  him;  because  in  a 


We're  Going  to  Hang  a  Boy  91 

hot  flash  he  did  murder?   O,  no;  we  are  going 
to  murder  him — in  cold  blood — deliberately. 

Because  he  is  sane?     Many  are  sane  and  do 
murder  and  are  not  hanged — those  who 
murder  scores  for  profit,  in  a  cheaply  pro- 
tected mine  drift,  or  because  life-boats  are 
expensive. 

Because  he  is  bad?     Many  bad  people  are  not 
hanged.     Because  he  is  bad,  sane,  and  a 
murderer?     Many  have  been  all  these  and 
were  not  hanged. 

Why  were  they  not  hanged?     Because  they 
were  very  Wealthy! 

We're  going  to  hang  a  boy — 

Because  he  is  poor!  His  people  haven't  much 
money. 

If  this  bad,  sane  boy  were  the  child  of  multi- 
millionaires do  you  think  he  would  have  been 
sentenced  to  hang? 

If  you  do  you  are  very  guileless. 

If   the   boy's    father   were   very   rich   he    could 
have  engaged  the  services  of  a  dozen  eminent 
psychiatrists  who  would  have  testified 
(truthfully)  that  the  boy  was  insane. 

We  are  going  to  hang  the  boy  because  he  is 
Poor! 


92  The  Naked  Truth 


WHERE   ARE   THE   WOMEN    OF 
CALIFORNIA 

Where  are  the  women  of  California — 

The  wise  matrons,  the  honored  sisters,  the 

virtuous  wives,  and  the  enlightened  spinsters 
Who  gained  the  ballot  to  uplift  society? 
Where  are   the  women  milder  and  truer  than 

men,  of  deeper  impulse  and  wider  sympathy? 
Where  are  the  enfranchised  women,  while  the 

gallows  is  building 
On  which  to  hang  a  boy? 

Where  are  the  women  of  California — 

More  humane  and  benign  than  men,  with  ten- 
dered sensibilities  and  nobler  purpose  to 
humanize  society,  soften  its  barbarous  customs 
and  replace  its  ancient  cruelties  with  decenter 
statutes  than  those  of  fang  and  claw? 
Where  is  the  gentler  sex  with  purer  love  and 
higher  instincts  to  lead  mankind  from  savage 
passions   and  primitive   blood-lust? 
Doesn't  it  hear  the  dull  stroke  of  the  hammer 
in  the  old  lumber  room  of  San  Quentin? 

Where  are  the  women  of  California — 

With  the  mother  hunger  for  every  mother's  son 

in  distress  and  hate  for  none — 
Who   value   the   life   of  youth   more   than   the 

jungle  law  of  revenge? 
Where  are  the  mothers  whose  ways  are  kinder 

and  wiser  than  those  of  the  hangman? 
Where  is  the  noble  motherhood,  the  gentle 

sisterhood,  the  precious  maternal  instinct — 


Where  Are  the  Women?  93 

Where  do  they  hide  that  they  cannot  hear  the 
building  of  the  gallows  on  which  two  sons  of 
mothers  are  to  be  hanged? 

One  of  twenty-three  and  one  of  eighteen? 

Where  are  the  million  mothers  of  California? 

Where  are  the  women  of  California — 

Who  will  not  hypocritically  hide  their  lust  of 

revenge 
By  fatuously  asking,  What  else  can  we  do  with 

a  boy  who  kills  another? 
Where  are  the  women  whose  love  for  the  un- 

slain,  and  care  for  those  who  have  not  killed, 

is    stronger    than    their    hate    of    a    mentally 

weak  boy? 
Where  are  the  wise  women  of  impersonal  view 

who  will  discourage  murder  by  suppressing 

the  state's  example  of  murder? 
Where  are  the  women  who  loathe  murder  more 

than  the  blind  victims  thereof? 

Where  are  the  women  of  California — 

Whose  finer  feminine  intuitions  have  raised 

them  above  the  brute  instincts  of  men? 
Where  are  the  women  who  will  bring  moral 

vigor  to  civilization  and  lure  us  away  from  the 

fear  and  hate  of  cave  days — 
The  women  less  crude  and  cruel  than  the 

shrinking  low-browed  males  of  California 

who  have  no  shame  to  hang  a  boy? 
Where  are  the  women,  better  than  men,  to  save 

a  boy  from  the  gallows? 

Where  are  the  women  of  California — 

Whose  sympathies  are  wider  than  their  skirts — 
Their   mentalities   stronger    than   their   love   of 

tango? 
Where  are  the  women,  the  voting  women,  with 


94  The  Naked  Truth 


mind  and  heart  reaching  beyond  the  boundary 

each  of  her  own  little  nest? 
A  hundred  real  women  could  wipe  the  stigma  of 

the  public  hangman  off  the  seal  of  the  state. 
Where  are  the  women  of  California! 


TWO  IN  A  MILLION 

Braver  than  soldiers  stalking  to  kill — 

Than  heroes  their  own  lives  who  take  or  give. 

True  as  who  live  when  death  were  easier. 

Rash  as  those  splendid  gamblers 

Throwing  dice  with  the  unknown 

For  gain  of  knowledge. 

Bold  as  seekers  for  the  Pole 

Or  the  Congo's  source — as  those 

Who  dare  the  skiey  whirlpools. 

These  play  for  gain  that  is  dross 
To  the  mother's  gain 
Who  pleads  for  the  life  of  the  boy 
That  slew  her  own. 


Two  in  a  Million 95 

These  play  for  honors,  excitement, 
For  gold,  or  for  peace; 
But  what  the  widow's  gain 
Pleading  for  the  life  that 
Killed  her  children's  father? 

What  have  they  braved? 

The  jeers  of  a  hate-ridden  world, 

Contempt  of  the  shallow  and  emotional 

Alien  to  deep  sympathy — 

The  sneers  of  the  modern  jungle 

Whose  denizens  still  proudly  share 

The  passions  and  impulses 

Of  the  wasp  and  the  wolf. 

What  have  they  dared? 

To  do  what  the  pious  preach 

And  never  practise;  to  be 

What  sages  admonish  all  to  be 

And  few  are;  not  to  seek  revenge. 

They  have  honored  their  dear  dead 

By  love  complete 

That  leaves  no  room  for  hate. 

What  is  their  courage? 

To  brave  the  contumely  of  lawyers 

And  judges — 

The  scorn  of  the  self-righteous, 

The  abuse  of  that  poverty-fear 

Whose  craven  imbecility 

Keeps  the  hangman's  law 

On  the  statutes  of  California. 

They  have  braved  public  opprobrium 
And  the  ridicule  of  the  smug. 
From  a  thousand  pulpits 
They  will  be  rated  "sentimiental." 
They  have  braved 


96  The  Naked  Truth 


The  orthodox  church 
And  the  harlot  press. 

Their  gain— if  but  the  hope  of  gain 

Can  spur  the  heart  and  head 

To  act  in  concert — 

Their  gain? 

Who  understand  alone  may  know. 

What  light  is  to  darkness, 

And  love  is  to  hate, 

Such  is  their  gain. 


Daughters  of  the  Newer  Eve! 
Yours  the  light  what  time 
Earth's  gloom  shall  cleave? 
Temptresses  with  riper  fruit! 
Yours  the  lure  of  men  bold-hearted 
In  the  long  pursuit. 

Fair!  ah,  sisters  fair! 

'T  is  men,  not  brutes, 

Your  "sacrosanct  cajoleries"  ensnare. 

Nor  man  nor  Superman 

Might  live  to  grieve 

His  "soul's  enmeshment  in  your  hair." 


The  Naked  Truth  97 


ONLY  THE  POOR 

Only  the  poor  we  hang — 
Never  the  rich! 
Not  all  the  poor  we  hang — 
But  none  of  the  rich! 

Not  for  murder  we  hang — 
And  only  the  poor! 
Many  slay  and  are  free, 
But  not  the  poor! 

To  kill  for  profit, 
Betray  and  debauch. 
Are  common  things — 
For  the  rich! 

The  hangman  guards 
The  loot  of  Privilege! 
We  hang  only  the  poor — 
Never  the  rich! 


98  The  Naked  Truth 


WE  LOVE  MURDER 

We  love  murder — 
And  hate  the  man. 
We  gloat  on  the  crime 
And  loathe  the  man. 

Our  venom 

We  exhaust  on  the  man — 
And  vi^allow  exultant 
In  the  shocking  crime. 

Our  jaded  appetites 
Morbidly  revel  in  the  details 
Of  the  murder — 
And  shrink  from  the  man. 

By  press,  code,  gallows 
We  foster  crime — 
And  hate  men. 
We  love  murder. 


The  Naked  Truth  99 


IF  HE  WERE  YOURS 

Judge,  if  he  were  your  boy, 

Would  you  hang  him? 

"The  law"  is  tv/o  words — nothing  more. 

Those  two  words — of  hate  and  revenge — 

Are  impotent  without  your  interpretation. 

You  speak  the  word  of  death! 

Governor,  if  he  were  your  boy 
You  would  not  sign  that  death  warrant. 
If  he  were  the  son  of  your  old  friend, 
The  son  of  your  political  manager. 
The  son  of  the  woman  you  loved — 
You  would  not  sign  the  death  warrant. 

Warden,  if  he  were  your  son. 

Would  you  hang  him? 

No;  it  is  not  "the  law"  that  hangs  him. 

Only  human  beings  can  build  a  gallows, 

March  a  boy  or  a  man  on  it. 

And  spring  the  trap  that  hurls  him  Out. 


100  The  Naked  Truth 


IF  WE  HATED  MURDER 

If  we  hated  murder — 

We  would  cease  to  encourage  it; 

Cease  to  feed  it  on  Poverty,  Hate,  Fear; 

Cease  to  breed  it  by  gruesome  spectacles 

And  inculcate  it 

By  the  subtle  force  of  suggestion. 

If  we  intelligently  discouraged  murder — 
Judges,  detectives,  sheriffs,  keepers,  lawyers 
Would  lose  their  jobs,  dignities,  salaries. 
In  every  population  are  many. 
Whose  incomes  depending  on  crime, 
Are  not  interested  to  lessen  murder. 

If  we  hated  murder — 
And  thought  hanging  would  lessen  it 
We  would  hang  even  the  rich.     Once 
We  hanged  a  man  who  had  $75,000 — 
But  not  until  the  last  penny  of  it 
Was  gone  for  legal  fees  and  expenses! 


The  Naked  Truth  101 


YOUR  BROTHER 

If  he  were  your  brother 

You'd  go  far 

And  do  much 

To  cheat  the  gallows! 

If  he  were  your  brother, 
Your  neighbor,  you  kin. 
Or  your  friend — 
Would  you  cry  "Hang  him"? 

If  he  were  your  brother, 
Your  son,  your  father. 
Your  husband,  or  lover. 
You  would  plead  for  his  life! 

If  he  were  your  brother, 
You  would  raise  heaven 
And  earth  to  save  him 
From  the  gallows! 

He  is 

Your  brother!! 


102  The  Naked  Truth 


I  WILL  NOT  FIGHT 

I  will  not  fight 
To  save  for  Wall  street 
The  exclusive  privilege 
Of  exploiting,  degrading 
The  people  of  America — 

For  a  flag,  for  markets,  for  words 

Like  patriotism,  prosperity,  or 

To  keep  the  Japanese  or  any  other  people  out. 

There's  room  enough  for  the  whole  world  of  men. 

I  will  not  fight 
To  perpetuate  slavery — 
But  with  a  mighty  battle 
To  open  the  land  of  America 
To  the  dispossessed  millions 
Count  me  in  to  the  end. 


War  Lines 


104  War  Lines 


ARMAGEDDON 

This  is  no  Armageddon. 
This  is  a  squabble  of  thieves. 
The  murderous  hosts  of  Europe 
Have  nothing  to  gain  or  lose. 
Esdraelon's  plain  will  redden 
When  the  masters  meet  the  slaves. 
This  is  no  Armageddon. 

That  w^ill  be  Death  against  Life 
That  will  be  Manhood's  struggle 
To  end  the  robber  strife. 
This  is  a  tradesman's  war 
Powder  and  guns  and  provisions 
Watch  how  the  prices  soar. 
This  is  not  Armageddon. 

This  is  the  broker's  gamble 

With  interest  at  80  per  cent. 

A  money  lord's  scramble. 

Hear  the  cash  register  jingle 

At  every  soul's  descent 

And  the  pulse  of  the  market  tingle- 

This  is  Greed's  game  with  Death. 

This  is  a  newspaper  war — 
Its  pawns  driven  to  slaughter 
And  lured  by  the  daily  press. 
No  one  hates  the  German, 
No  one  hates  the  French, 
No  one  hates  the  English, 
Only  the  daily  press. 


Armageddon 105 


This  is  no  Armageddon 
This  is  the  christians'  bluff 
All  the  captain's  praying 
That  Greed  may  keep  its  clutch 
And  stay  the  Armageddon 
Delay  the  real  war 
Of  Man  against  Money. 

This  is  no  Armageddon 
This  is  no  test  of  strength 
This  is  the  feeding  of  flesh 
To  death  machines 
That  rip  and  tear  and  mangle 
"The  human  form  divine" 
"Made  in  God's  image." 

This  is  for  broken  treaties 
That  will  avenge  broken  lives. 
Wait  till  the  hosts  of  Darkness 
Face  the  powers  of  Light 
Then  the  world-struggle! 
And  may  Death  alone  win 
If  Right  fail  for  Might! 


106  War  Lines 


WAR'S   MASKS 

War  masks  itself  in  glittering  pomp  and  tinsel, 
With  blare  of  brass  and  pageantry  of  trampling 

troops 
Cheered  by  aimless  women  who  love  gold  braid 
And  smirk  on  empty-pated  automatons 
That  strut  like  dunghill  roosters  and  swell 
With  mindless  vanity  vacuously  to  obey. 
War's  mask  is  this,  but  at  its  heart  lies 
Cold,  mechanical,  calculating  Profit. 

War  lures  with  murder,  blood,  and  pillage, 
With  rape  and  loot  and  all  that  stirs  the  passing 
Human  brute  to  primitive  ferocity; 
Envisages  with  lust  of  gluttony 
To  lure  the  jungle  avatars  of  men. 
War's  lure  is  this,  but  at  its  heart  lies  gold 
For  bankers,  bonds  for  financiers,  and  profit 
For  crafty  brokers  of  war  munitions. 

War  hypnotizes  by  sorceries  of  words 

And  fatuous  phrases.     Nor  Patriotism,  the  flag, 

My  Country,  Prosperity,  Progress,  nor  a  thousand 

Like  noises  would  Profit  budge  an  inch 

To  serve — because  Profit  knows  them  for  what 

They  are,  but  empty  sound  to  awe  the  mass 

To  insane  murder  for  Profit's  profit.     War 

Enchants  the  weak  with  mercantile  palaver. 

War  masks  in  red  hot  courage,  in  glorious 
Death  for  fatherland  and  home — lies  infernal! 
(Devised  of  church  and  press  and  school 
To  pay  their  keep  by  wealth)  that  snare  the  weak 
And  ignorant  to  hack  and  kill  each  other 


War's  Masks  107 


And  stand  as  targets  for  machine  guns 
While  Profit  reaps  fresh  harvests 
And  validates  again  its  titles  to  land. 

War's  public  attitude  is  Balance  of  Power, 
Trade  Supremacy,  Markets  of  the  World, 
National  Integrity;  its  pith  and  purpose  is 
To  refasten  the  chains  of  industrial 
Slavery  on  toiling  millions,  to  exploit 
Little  tradesmen  and  petty  merchants 
And  hoard  still  vaster  piles  of  wealth 
In  never  loosening  grip  of  Greed. 

To  break  the  wave  of  social  discontent 
War  masks  in  frothy  horror  and  black  fear; 
Dangles  huge  cruelties  and  crimson 
Carnivals  of  pain  to  fascinate  the 
Sensual  emotionalists  and  snare  souls  weak 
Of  human  courage  aborn  of  thought 
And  sympathy,  sans  manly  daring 
To  fight  for  Man  instead  of  kings  and  profit. 


108  War  Lines 


WAR  WILL  NOT  CEASE 

Let  warriors  be  reassured 
Their  occupation  is  lasting — 
But  men  will  not  always 
Kill  each  other. 

There  will  be  no  peace 
Till  the  last  lie 
Of  religion  and  philosophy 
Has  been  uncovered. 

Let  the  fighters  cease  twaddle 
Of  the  ener'.ation  of  peace. 
Greed  will  remain  a  worthy  foe 
For  many  centuries. 

There  will  be  no  peace 
Till  man  is  free 
Of  all  the  superstitions 
Of  church  and  state. 

Let  the  heroes  be  content. 
There  are  monsters  and  dragons 
Of  unknown  spheres  to  slay — 
When  man  has  ceased  to  kill  himself. 

There  will  be  no  peace 
For  courageous  men 
Till  the  last  veil  is  torn 
From  the  visage  of  Reality. 


War  Lines  109 


THE  REAL  WAR 

That  ye  strive  for  the  real 
As  ye  battle  for  the  false. 
That  ye  bleed  for  freedom 
As  ye  fight  for  chains. 

That  ye  dare  for  Man 
As  ye  die  for  God. 
That  ye  slay  your  foe 
As  ye  kill  your  kin. 

That  men  who  think  and  feel 
Be  as  bold  as  the  shallow. 
That  sympathy  and  thought 
Rob  us  not  of  manhood. 


THE  NEW  WAR 

The  new  war  will  be 
For  men  instead  of  markets, 
For  life  instead  of  profit, 
For  love  instead  of  hate — 
To  dethrone  rulers  and  gain 
The  earth  and  its  fruit 
For  the  Many! 


110  War  Lines 


A  FLAGGERAL 

The  fondest  flag  is  only  a  rag — 
But  a  man  is  a  soul! 

Tho  it  be  of  silk 

It  is  poverty's  ilk 
That  pays  its  toll — 

Men  hack  and  kill 

At  Capital's  will 
Death   take   and   give 
So  a  iew  can  live 

On  the  blood  and  dure 

Of  the  poor. 
It's  a  rich  man's  flag 
And  only  a   rag — 
But  a  human  life  is  a  soul! 

The  silkiest  flag  is  only  a  rag — 
But  a  man  can  feel! 
The  scravv^niest  cat 
Or  the  skulkiest  rat 
Can  breathe  and  suffer, 
But  a  flag  is  tougher 
Than  the  heart  of  Greed 
Making  vi^ar  for  profit! 

They  wave  the  flag,  a  gaudy  rag- 
They  raise  a  shout 
And  the  dupes  march  out 
To  murder  each  other 
At  $13  a  month! 

The  proudest  flag 
Is  a  senseless  rag — 
But  a  man  knows  joy  and  pain! 


A  Flaggeral  111 


A  rag  can't  feel, 

But  its   wavers   steal 
The  land  of  the  "foreign  foe," 

While  the  men  who  fight, 

Give  Greed  its  might, 
Get  what  for  their  pain  and  woe? 

Disemployed  at  home 

Blanket-stiffs  they  roam — 
Driven  off  the  naked  earth  as  bums 

In  the  name  of  a  flag 

That's  only  a  rag. 
But  is  fondled  more 
Than  human  babes  in  the  slums! 

Who  honor  the  flag 

As  a  sacred  rag 
Dishonor  woman  and  manT 

Their  guns  to  sell 

Turn  earth  to  hell 
On  human  life  they  prey! 

And  the  red  bar's  stain 
Is  the  human  flood 
The  heart's  own  blood — 

The  brand  of  Cain! 

O,  a  child's  lost  joy 

Or  a  broken  toy. 

Of  sanctity  has  more 
Than  profit's  flag  of  war! 


112  War  Lines 


ALL  THIS  KILLING 

Cowardice  lurks  in  killing 
Weakness  dogs 
Fear  skulks 
Behind  it. 

Logically  it  is  futile 
To  kill — boyish,  brutish 
Not  manly. 

It  may  be  unavoidable 
To  kill— 

A  mad  dog  or  a  mad  king 
Or  a  mad  financier 
Or  a  mad  policeman — 
But  weakness  and  fear 
Lurk  in  killing. 

It  is  hideous  to  kill 
And  unnecessary. 
Nor  health  nor  strength 
Nor  beauty  can  ensue. 
Weakness  and  fear 
Are  the  net 
Products  of  killing. 

There  are  other  ways 
To  be  passionate 
And  courageous, 
To  risk  life  and  feel 
The  shock  and  thrill 
Or  high  daring 
Than  by  killing  people. 


War  Lines  113 


THE  LESSER  EVIL 

War  to  abolish  Poverty 
Is  better  than  peace 
That  maintains  Privilege. 


PEACE  AND  WAR 

Profit  takes  heavier  toll 

Of  human  life 

In  peace  than  in  war — 

Will  drain  the  heart's  blood 

Of  more  men,  women,  children 

Starve  their  bodies  and  minds, 

Vampirize  their  souls — 

Ruthlessly  and  needlessly  slay, 

In  America, 

To  fatten  dividends 

Of  railroad,  factory,  and  mine, 

More,  far  more  than  will  die 

On  the  European  battlefields! 


114  War  Lines 


ITS  SHAME 
This  war  's  a  wanton  hussies'  bawdy  game. 
Usury's  murderous  lust  of  gain — its  aim 
No  higher  than  a  harlot's  lust  of  gaud. 
Each  power  aloot — oblivious  to  shame! 


ITS  STRUT 
War's  fatuous  strut — its  hate  and  rage  so  crass, 
Gold  braid,  emotion,  pompous  death  en  masse- 

Is  all  a  wolfish,  strident,  shrewish  game, 
The  soldier  but  an  automatic  ass. 


THE  LIE 

The  Moving  Finger  writes  with  crimson  stain 
Its  record  red  of  every  human  gain 

In  Christendom — the  theologic  lie! — 
That  growth  can  only  come  thru  pain. 


War  Lines  115 


SLAY  YOUR  MASTERS 

Ye  are  taught  to  hate, 

Ye  are  drilled  to  kill — 

One  Another! 

Ye  are  bidden: 

Servants  obey  your  masters. 

But  the  nucleus  stirs  in  the  life  cell, 

The  prisoned  plant  bursts  granite 

To  reach  the  light, 

The  hidden  God  that  man  is 

Awakes! 

Above  the  rattle  of  falling  chains 
Hear  ye  the  voice  of  Manhood — 
Servants  arise, 
And  slay  your  masters! 

Hear  ye  the  boldness,  the  trueness, 

the  faith 
And  the  thunders 
Of  awakened  Men: 

"Kill  only  the  foeman! 
Kill  boldly,  O  yeomen. 
All  who  would  exploit, 
Would  rob,  or  deny — 
Would  palaver  and  cheat 
By  law  and  deceit 
Any  child  of  its  food, 
Any  soul,  any  man  or  his  mate 
Of  whatever  is  earned 
In  the  sweat  of  the  brow!" 


116  War  Lines 


THE  EUCHARIST 

Again  the  christians  gather  for  the  Host, 
The  millions  slay  to  please  their  Holy  Ghost 

And  make  of  Eucharist  a  real  feast 
For  God  who  smiles  when  murder  riots  most. 


IF  WE  MUST 

Since  murderous  war,  invoked  by  tradesmen's 

greed. 
To  battle  hells  the  landless  millions  speed; 

If  war  must  be  the  common  lot — O  men 
Awake!   and  battle  for  the  common  need! 


New  Songs 


118  New  Songs 


SONG    OF   THE    PRINTING    PRESS 

I  am  the  Printing  Press — Anarch  of  Christendom, 
Breeder  of  discontent,  fomenter  of  strife,  destroyer 
of  hopes  and  delusions: 
I  am  the  thunder  and  the  flash  bursting  palls 

of  sacred  superstition — 
The  earthquake  sundering  anointed  forms, 
The  wind  that  topples  reverent  customs, 
The  flood  that  drowns  creeds  and  churches — 
I  am  the  sunlight  in  Which  men  rear  new  temples, 
Gain  new  illusions,  fresh  hopes,  larger  ideals. 

I  am  the  Printing  Press — Dooming  authority. 
Unseating  gods  and  kings,  plotting  revolutions, 

stirring  to  rebellion,  revealing  to  slaves  the 

chains  that  bind  them: 
I   am   the    danger    of   a   little    knowledge   that 

precedes  more  knowledge  and  ripens  to 

wisdom: 
I  am  the  pain  and  the  ecstacy  of  quickened 

growth,  the  bitterness  of  knowing,  the  pang  of 

disillusion,  the  dregs  at  the  bottom  of  the  cup: 
I  am  that  which  is  clothing  right  with  might. 

I  am  the  Printing  Press — Time's  analyst, 
Sifting,  dissecting,  assorting,  evading  cr  hiding 

nothing; 
Searching  the  dark  corners,  dragging  into  sun- 
light the  dust  of  centuries,  the  slime  of  lust, 
the  mold  of  weakness,  the  debris  of  ignorance; 
Lending  myself  to  all  shams,  shames  and  vil- 
lainies, to  all  graces  and  divinities: 


The  Printing  Press 119 

Culture  and  crudeness  I  blazon,  faith  and  doubt 
unmask,  hate  and  love  mingle,  pride  and 
humility,  prejudice  and  sympathy  uncover — 

I  reveal  man  to  himself. 

I  am  the  Printing  Press — The  silver  thread 
That  binds  the  human  whole: 
I  am  that  Messiah  foretold  by  the  prophets. 
Buddha  and  Jesus  were  my  heralds: 
I  am  the  resurrection  and  the  life,  the  cross 

and  the  circle,  regeneration  and  destruction; 
I  am  the  trinity  of  pain,  knowledge  and  growth; 
I  am  the  power  to  roll  the  stone  from  the  tomb 

of  death  and  reveal  life: 
I  shall  uncover  the  secret  place  of  the   Grail 

and  cleanse  all  men 

To  drink  from  the  golden  chalice. 

I  am  the  Printing  Press — The  means  and  the  end 
Of  external  progression — the  journey  out  and 

the  return. 
I  shall  marry  the  heart  to  the  head  of  man — 
wed  intellect  and  sympathy,  care  and  art, 
purpose  and  genius,  passion  and  reason, 
religion  and  logic,  poetry  and  usefulness, 
morality  and  nature: 
I  am  wearing  away  the  crudities  and  intensify- 
ing the  realities — transmuting  the  primitive 
instincts  to  finer  perceptions: 
I  am  fitting  man  for  his  new  environment: 
I  am  the  prophet  of  that  time  when  the  written 
word  shall  be  obsolete — 

When  men  shall  speak  soul  to  soul. 


120 New  Songs 


A  PLEA  FOR  MAN 

I  plead  for  Man — 
Against  the  Written  Word: 
The  state  and  the  statute, 
Preamble  and  resolution, 
Theology  and  philosophy, 
The  fixed  belief  and  the  static  thought — 
Reason's  fumbling  clutch,  logic's  icy  touch; 
Against  the  sorcery  of  syllables  and 
The  hypnotism  of  hyperbole. 
Against  all  the  tomb's  tentacles 
I  plead  for  living  men. 

I  plead  for  Man — 

Against  the  guns  and  creeds  of  Greed 

And  the  black  blindness 

Of  orthodox  and  infidel 

To  the  law  as  unbroken  as  gravity 

That  the  only  gain 

From  the  commerce  of  death  machines 

Is  hate  and  pain. 

Against  the  world's  darkest  hour 

Of  the  tradesman's  triumph 

I  plead  for  human  beings. 

I  plead  for  Man — 
Against  hell's  heresy 
That  growth  and  joy  and  wisdom 
Must  come  thru  suffering, 
That  good  lies  in  the  bitterness  of  strife 
And  grief  is  integral  in  life; 
That  sweets  grow  in  sour  and  purity  in  filth 
Or  anything  of  worth  accrue  to  one 
By  forcing  misery  on  another. 


A  Plea  for  Man 121 

Against  the  exploiter's  creeds  of  Death  and 

Destruction 
I  plead  for  human  life. 

I  plead  for  Man — 
Against  God 

And  all  his  plutocrats  and  prophets 
And  their  religions  to  bind  vassals, 
Their  morals  to  promote  mediocrity, 
Their  dogma  of  Rights 
To  maintain  "mine  and  thine" 
Against  the  human  need 
And  the  heart's  demand. 
Against  the  glory  of  God  and  the  gluttony  of 

Greed 
I  plead  for  Man! 


122 New  Songs 


SONG  OF  THE  RAILWAY  CROSSING 

Hear  the  bells  at  the  railway  crossing. 

Ding  dong,  they  sound, 

If  the  wind  is  right, 

Above  the  roar  of  the  hastening  train 

Of  electric  cars 

Whirling  a  hundred  passengers 

From  the  city  to  their  homes. 

It's  a  dangerous  crossing. 
The  smooth  auto  road 
Bisects  it  diagonally. 
Therefore  the  warning  bells — 
Ding  dong,  they  sound, 
When  the  wind  is  right. 

A  dozen  people  a  year 

Were  killed  here. 

That's  why  the  bells  were  installed — 

Cunning  electric  automatic  bells. 

Now  the  death  record 

Is  reduced  to  six. 

Hear  the  bells 

At  the  dangerous  crossing. 

Ding  dong,  they  sound. 

Sometimes, 

Loud  and  clear  above  the  wind 

And  the  rushing  trains. 

Glorious  bells! 
Six  lives  a  year 
They  save — 
And  six  are  killed. 


The  Railway  Crossing 123 

Four  interurban  electric  tracks 
Cross  the  county  road  here. 
The  trolley  cars  pound  along 
At  thirty  miles  an  hour, 
The  autos  glide  at  twenty-five. 

Last  night  in  the  wind  and  rain 
There  was  a  crash! 
Only  one  was  killed 
And  one  crippled. 

Whose  life  went  out? 
Not  yours  or  mine, 
Anyone  we  know? 
A.  B.  Smith. 
Never  heard  of  him. 
Read  the  next  item. 

What  are  the  bells  saying? 

Ding  dong,  they  talk. 

This  is  their  song: 

"Cheap  skates  are  we. 

We  cost  a  hundred  dollars 

And  save  the  railroad 

And  the  county  the  expense 

Of  obviating  a  dangerous  grade  crossing." 

"Cheap  bells  are  we, 

As  cheap  as  human  life. 

We  save  dividends  for  the  company 

And  every  taxpayer 

Fifty  cents." 

Ding  dong,  ring  the  bells 
At  the  dangerous  crossing. 
One  was  killed 
And  one  crippled 
Last  night. 


124  New  Songs 


Not  you  or  me — 
Only  some  stranger. 

Taxes  are  high 

And  life  is  cheap. 

Ding  dong,  ring  the  bells. 

Dividends  are  more  than  life 

And  taxes  than  a  cripple! 

When  the  life 

Or  the  limb 

Is  not 

Yours  or  mine. 

All  the  dividends  of  the  world 

Were  not  worth  my  life, 

Or  yours. 

But  the  other  fellow's — 

Ding  dong,  ring  the  cheap  bells. 


New  Songs  125 


THAT  LOVE  BE  BOLD 

That  Love  should  be  as  bold  as  Hate — 
Audacious,  fearless 
For  light  and  joy  and  freedom, 
As  Hate  is  for  darkness  and  pain; 

That  Love  should  dare  to  seize  and  hold  its  own. 

For  what  is  all  the  world's  attainment 
If  pain  with  growth  and  knowledge 
Keep  the  pace? 
While  crime  and  hunger  stalk 
What  profit  all  the  piety  and  grace? 

That  Kindness  be  as  strong  as  Cruelty — 
To  mold  the  world 
And  have  its  heart's  desire; 
To  kill  the  thought  or  thing — 
Remove  whatever  bar  its  way! 

For  what  are  all  the  dreams  and  ideals 
If  love  be  meek? 
If  kindness,  thought,  and  care 
Gain  only — patience! 
The  dream  is  but  a  snare  if  Love  be  weak. 

That  Sympathy  should  outrun  Prejudice 
And  have  its  way  on  earth! 
Nor  wait  the  toilsome  centuries* 
Blind  and  groping  growth. 
That  Sympathy  be  quick,  courageous,  true! 


126  New  Songs 


A    MAN    BELIEF 

I  believe  in  Man — 

In  men,  women,  and  children; 

In  their  welfare, 

Their  freedom  from  exploitation, 

Their  opportunity  to  grow — 

Every  human  being's  chance 

Freely  to  develop 

His  own  Individuality 

Without  hindrance 

From  Greed. 

I  believe  in  Man — 

In    living,    breathing    human    beings 

The  "least"  or  the  "worst" 

Of  which 

Is  more  precious 

Than  all  the  minted  gold. 

Than  any  state  or  government. 

Or  any  institution  or  church 

Or  property 

The  sun  ever  shone  on. 

I  believe  in  Man — 

Every  man  and  every  woman 

And  every  child, 

The  raggedest  of  whom 

Is  more  to  be  considered 

Than  all  the  railroads 

And  corporations 

And  temples  and  mansions 

And  riches 

In  the  whole  wide  world! 


A  Man  Belief  127 


I  believe  in  Man  — 

Whose  Present  Hour 

And  chance  to  live  a  full  life 

Now  and  Here 

Is  more  than  all  the  Gods 

And  theologies — 

More  than  all  the  dreams 

Of  superman 

Than  all  the  means  and  methods 

Of  Utopia  I 


128  New  Songs 


SONG  OF  THE  HANGMAN 

I  am  the  hangman — 

Paid  to  strangle  boys,  men,  women — 
Whoever  is  caught  in  the  snarled  meshes 
Of  the  Big  Net 

Threaded  of  the  vengeful  penal  code. 
Woven  by  detectives,  judges,  and  lawyers 
On  the  warp  of  Poverty. 

I  am  the  hangman — 

Hired  by  the  Ladies  and  Gentlemen 
Of  wealth,  piety,  position,  and  culture 
To  suffocate  their  brothers  and  sisters — 
Because  ten  thousand  years  ago 
Marauding  herders  imposed  "the  law" 
On  conquered  peasants. 

I  am  the  hangman — 
Who  throttles  the  victims  of  the  Net 
In  an  obscure  corner  of  a 
Gloomy  room  in  the  state  prison 
Where  the  moans  and  curses 
Will  be  hushed 
From  the  delicate  ears 
Of  wives  and  mothers. 

But  they  hear  and  feel  me! 
Ill-fed  mothers  embrace  me; 
Their  unborn  babes  are  mine 
When  chance  calls; 
In  the  womb  I  brand  them. 
Vain  is  your  hiding  of  me — 
All  the  fearsome  and  weak  are  mine. 
Whose  passions  outrun  their  mentalities, 


Song  of  the  Hangman  129 

Whose  spleens  are  more  developed 
Than  their  brains! 

For  I  am  the  lethal  god — 
Whose  face  is  hidden  in 
Clouds  of  red  passion.     I  am 
The  god  of  the  abnormal. 
I  obsess  the  weak  of  will 
And  possess  the  perverted. 
Into  every  open  ear  I  whisper 
"Murder!"     I  am 

The  color  red  that  turns  to  black — 
And  while  I  live 
No  soul  evades  me! 

I  am  the  public  hangman — 
Focus  of  the  world's  cruelty, 
Cumulous  of  its  hate, 
Sum-total  of  its  fear  and  ignorance. 
My  days  and  ways  and  dreams 
Are  of  blood. 

I  am  he  who  kills,  kills,  kills — 
For  a  monthly  wage 
Paid  by  the  State. 

I  am  the  hangman — 
Mercenary  descendant. 
Of  old  Judge  Lynch, 

Whose  ways  were  quick,  crude,  merciful — 
And  I,  more  often  than  he  did. 
Hang  the  wrong  man. 
My  ways  are  refined.     I  am 
Cold  and  mechanical — the  paid  ghoul 
With  critical  eye  for  the  long  tortures 
Of  those  who  wait  in  the  Death  Cell. 

I  am  the  State's  hangman — 
The  conscience  of  every  voter. 


130  New  Songs 


His  malice  and  savagery. 
And  I  am  bolder  than  he,  for 
I  do  what  he  dare  not. 
My  blood  lust  is  his — 
My  courage  is  my  own. 

I  am  the  hangman — 
The  State's  hired  butcher  of  men. 
I  am  the  avatar 

From  dungeons  of  the  Inquisition, 
And  ye  are  the  mob  that  gloated. 
Long  live  the  lust  of  blood! 
When  my  trade  is  gone 
Men  will  cease  to  kill  each  other. 

I  am  the  hangman — 
Who  does  the  work  the  judge 
Orders  but  has  not  the  "sand" 
To  perform. 

I  am  the  sign  of  the  incapacity 
Of  modern  people  to  treat 
The  crime  of  murder  intelligently. 
I  am  the  ignorance  and  stupidity 
Of  the  Christian  mob. 


New  Songs  131 


THE   DOCTRINE    OF    RIGHTS 

The  Doctrine  of  Rights — 

Dogma  of  intolerable  wrongs — 

Wrongs  to  little  children,  to  nursing  mothers, 

to  youth  of  immaturity,  to  helpless  age — 
The  food  stolen  from  their  mouths 
And  heaped  in  gluttonous  piles  around  a  few 

greed-blinded  inhuman  beings — 
Billionaires  who  riot  in  luxury  while  millions 

drudge  and  pinch  and  go  without — 
Wrongs  that  Men,  real  men,  courageous  men 

with  the  natural  dignity  of  a  Hottentot,  the 

human  sympathy  of  an  Apache,  the  nascent 

manhood  of  a  wolf  or  porcupine  would  never 

tolerate — 
Babes  starving  by  the  thousand 
Children's  lives  ground  out  in  mine  and  mill 
Women  on  the  street  corners  offering  their  bodies 

for  bread — 
And  we  haggle  over  Rights! 

Under  the  dogma  of  Rights — 

The  greatest  wrongs  the  world  has  ever  known  1 

No  one  has  a  Right  to  anything 

While  a  child  lacks  food. 

It  is  avarice  and  envy 

That  demand  their  Rights, 

The  brave  take  and  leave. 

The  Doctrine  of  Rights  is  a  quibble — 

A  dogma  of  caste 

Artificially  dividing 

An  invertebrate  people 

Who  argue  and  pass  resolutions 


132  New  Songs 


While  their  weaker  ones  starve 

And  broken  human  Uves 

Litter  every  pathway — 

In  a  land  of  Plenty,  in  a  land  of  Plenty,  in  a  land 

of  Plenty! 
In  a  land  where  all  the  necessities  and  luxuries 

of  life 
Are  so  abundant  they  choke  the  warehouses 
And  the  surplus  is  destroyed. 

The  state's  Rights 
The  church's  Rights 
The  landlord's  Rights 
The  army's  Rights 
The  prison  keepers'  Rights 
The  hangman's  Rights 
The  millionaire's  Rights 
The  exploiters'  Rights 
The  bankers'  Rights 
The  money  lenders'  Rights 
The  brokers'  Rights 
The  merchants'  Rights 
The  employers'  Rights 
The  brothel  keepers'  Rights 
The  prostitutes'  Rights 
The  wage  earners'  Rights 
The  people's  Rights 
The  paupers'  Rights — 

Inalienable  Rights! 

Up  and  down  the  christian  earth  men- 
Are  we  Men? — 
Prescribing,  discovering,  balancing,  maintaining, 

defining,  defending,  enacting 
Our  Rights! 

Bench  and  bar  ransack  tombs  and  tomes 
For  definitions  and  precedents 


The  Doctrine  of  Rights  133 


To  establish  Rights! 

While  a  million  shop  girls  sell  their  bodies  for 
ribbons  and  bread — 

(Ribbons  count  more 
Than  bread 
With  the  v/oman 
I  would  love) — 

And  bread  and  ribbons  so  plenty 

That  the  markets  are  glutted — 

While  men — 

Men? 

Haggle  over  their  Rights! 

Prisons,  gallows,  penal  codes,  death  machines — 

Ten  hundred  thousand 

Toiling,  slaving,  sweating 

Night  and  day — dying! — 

In  the  munition  hells 

To   make   fiendish   contrivances   by    which   living 

beings  are  mutilated  and  murdered — 
To  establish  and  maintain  Rights! 
Whose  Rights?— 
Of  the  cunning,  the  stronger,  the  cruel,  the 

heartless; 
To  rob,  cheat,  kill,  debauch,  and  exploit 
The  weaker  and  the  trusting. 

All  up  and  down 

The  christianized  parts  of  earth 

Spies  and  detectives 

Are  peeping  thru  keyholes 

Of  cabinets  and  bedchambers 

To  uphold  Rights! 

And  children  are  dying  in  the  streets 

And  men  are  entombed  in  mines 

Youth  poisoned  and  life  blackened 


134  New  Songs 


In  sweatshops — 

While  we  haggle  over  Rights! 

The  Doctrine  of  Rights 

Is  hell's  dogma  of  servant  and  master. 

Manhood  will  cast  it  out 

And  put  decency,  courage,  kindness — Love! 

A  bold  defiant  daring  love 

In  its  place. 

O  have  done  with  the  quibbling! 

The  world  needs  Men — 

The  starving  children  need  Men 

To  feed  them 

Now! 


Personal  Privilege 


136 Personal  Privilege 


PERSONAL  PRIVILEGE 

I  will  love  all  men 
I  will  hate  no  man 
But  I  will  toady 
To  no  man's 
Superstitions — 

To  no  man's  concept 
Of  an  alien  God 
Outside,  over,  beyond 
Himself 
And  myself — 

Of  a  God 

Who  does  not  speak 
In  every  human  voice 
And  look  thru 
Every  human  eye. 

I  will  honor  all  men 
I  will  judge  no  man 
But  I  will  not 
Keep  silence 
At  the  things  men  do. 

I  will  oppose 
I  will  denounce 
The  deceits 
And  the  cruelties 
Of  any  man. 

I  will  love  all  men 
But  not  their  crimes. 
I  will  accept  all  men 
Without  question 
But  not  their  delusions. 


Personal  Privilege  137 

Some  men  do  this 
Some  that. 
Whether  this  or  that 
I  am  little  interested 
Unless  it  hinders  me 
Or  others. 

Another's  motive 
I  cannot  penetrate. 
My  own  are  mixed 
And  obscured 
By  innumerable  things 
That  urge  and  limit. 

I  will  accuse  no  soul 

But  I  will  appraise 

All  conduct  that  trenches 

On  the  welfare  of  another. 

I  will  separate 

The  doer  from  the  deed. 

I  am  anxious  to  please 

My  friends. 

I  am  solicitous 

For  the  goodwill 

Of  those  who  love  Men — 

But  I  will  not 

Bow  to  their  idols. 


138  Personal  Privilege 


A  FRIEND  OF  MINE 

w.  r.  a. 

He  sells  goods, 

Is  a  merchant  of  wares — 

Yet  I  love  him. 

He  sells  things  that  people  need, 

Yet  I  respect  him! 

He  doesn't  paint  pictures 
Or  write  poems 
Or  deal  in  "culture" 
While  children  starve 
And  girls  go  to  the  streets. 

He  only  sells  goods 
That  people  need 
And  sells  'em  honestly 
And  has  never  yet 
Sold  himself. 

What  artist,  lawyer 

Poet,  writer 

Can  say  as  much  for  himself 

Truthfully— that  he  has 

Never  sold  himself  for  Gain? 

That  he  has  never 

Lowered  his  ideal 

For  dollars? 

A  few — possibly — possibly! 

Be  truthful  to  yourself. 

He  sells  goods — 
But  not  himself. 


Personal  Privilege  139 


DIVERGENCE 

Does  life 

Present  itself  to  you 

As  a  personal  equation — 

A  matter  of  getting 
Some  personal  material 
Advantage 

Regardless 

Of  broken  lives 

And  starving  children? 

Then  I  am  not 
With  you.     Our 
Paths  widely  diverge. 


140  Personal  Privilege 


FAY 

Can  a  picture 
Be  better  than  it  looks? 
Yes,  if  a  human  portrait. 
There's  Fay- 
As  bad  as  any  of  us 
And  as  good — 
But  looking. 
Staid,  dignified,  prominent! 

No  one  could  be 
So  eminently 
Distinguished  and  correct 
As  he — looks — 

Fay— 

With  the  heart  of  an  anarchist 
The  soul  of  an  I.W.W. 
The  brand  of  the  outlaw 

Christ! 

A  traitor  to  his 

Smug  and  respectable 

Appearance. 

Why! 

He  gives  comfort  and  cash 
To  law  breakers. 
Associates  with  agitators — 

He,  who  looks 
Like  a  Pillar  of  Society 
Friendly  with 
Convicted  felons — 


Fay  141 


And  with  some  of  us 
Not  convicted — yet. 
Even  with  the  disturbers 
Of  Existing  Conditions 

The  eminently 

Respectable 

Dignified — Fay — 

A  traitor  to  his  Class  A. 

He  is  fey 

To  the  world  of  things 

As  they  are 

And  Fay 

To  us  who  know  him. 


142 Personal  Privilege 


WHY  I  STAY 

There's  a  soft  green  island 
In  the  South  Sea 
And  a  dark-eyed  woman 
Who  beckons  to  me. 
Yet  I  stay. 

There's  a  hungry  child 

In  California 

An  infant  soul 

Whose  body 

Lacks  food  and  shelter. 

There's  a  starving  maid 
In  California, 
A  girl  whose  hunger 
For  bread  or  ribbons 
Is  denied. 

There's  an  exploited  mother 
In  California 
Whose  choice  is 
Between  the  sweat  shop, 
Starvation  or  harlotry. 

There's  a  jobless  man 

In  California 

Tramping  over  Idle  Acres 

Moving  on — begging — stealing- 

The  sheriff's  irons  behind  him. 

There's  a  broken  life 

In  California 

A  discouraged  hopeless  being 

A  blood  brother  of  mine — 

And  a  fighting  chance 


1 


V/hy  I  Stay  143 


To  succor  him — 

A  bare  chance 

Immediately 

To  Open  the  Earth 

And  free  him. 

Not  one  only 

Tho  one  were  enough 

For  a  man — 

But  a  hundred  thousand — 

So  I  stay  and  strive  in  California. 

There's  a  green  isle  near  Fiji 

In  the  tropical  sea 

And  a  dark-eyed  woman 

Beckons  to  me, 

Yet  I  stay  in  California. 


144 Personal  Privilege 


NOW 

This  is  the  age  of  romance 
Not  yesterday 
Nor  tomorrow. 

This  is  the  day 
For  great  daring 
And  wonderful  deeds. 

This  is  the  hour 
To  slay  the  dragon 
Of  Greed. 

This  is  the  time 
Of  high  emprise 
We  are  the  world's  heroes. 

This  is  the  age  of  romance 
When  Manhood  shall 
Assault  Omnipotence! 


Personal  Privilege  145 


AT  THE  ROSSLYN  HOTEL 

One  arose  and  said 
He  had  sacrificed  more 
For  Single  Tax  than  I  had. 

He  was  right. 

I  haven't  sacrificed  anything 

For  Single  Tax. 

The  vision  of  Henry  George 

Owes  me  nothing. 

I  am  its  debtor 

For  the  greatest  hours  of  my  life. 


Facets  of  Truth 


148  Facets  of  Truth 


THE  SILVER  THREAD 

There  are  in  every  society  a  number  of  people 
who  care. 

For  these  life  is  not  bounded  by  their  material 
satisfactions.  They  are  not  content  to  mind  their 
own  business  and  let  the  word  wag  along  as  it 
will.  For  it  doesn't  wag  that  way.  It  has  no 
will.  It  wags  as  Rockefeller  and  the  steel  trust 
will.  And  that  spells  a  shameful  and  unnecessary 
poverty — hunger,  prostitution,  starvation  wages, 
child  slavery,  insanity,  suicide,  murder  for  profit, 
and  millions  disemployed. 

Reason  enough  why  those  who  care  should  not 
be  content  to  sit  with  hands  folded  in  their  own 
houses. 

Consciously  or  unconsciously  these  sense  the 
invisible  silver  thread  that  runs  from  heart  to 
heart  and  binds  the  human  mass  into  a  unity  from 
which  no  unit  can  escape. 

This  silver  thread  is  not  known  or  sensed  by 
those  whose  attention  is  fixed  on  externalities, 
and  they  marvel  when  "unmerited"  blows  fall; 
nevertheless  it  is  the  most  real  thing  in  the  world, 
and  whoever  does  not  reckon  with  it  will  find  his 
steering  wrong. 

The  silver  thread  by  which  the  tortures  of  a 
Danbury  hatter  touch  the  life  of  a  Pasadena  mil- 
lionaire is  not  mere  trope  of  speech  or  poetic 
metaphor.  It  is  more  real  and  lasting  and  uncB- 
capable  than  rent,  interest,  and  land  values. 

But  only  those  who  care  sense  it. 


Facets  of  Truth  149 


HUMAN  NATURE  PERCENTAGES 

Gather  a  thousand  human  beings  anywhere. 

Show  them  the  possibiUty  of  realizing  immedi- 
ately a  sane,  decent,  kindly  system  of  social 
life 

Eighty  per  cent  will  enlist  to  accomplish  it. 

Gather  a  thousand  human  beings  anywhere. 
Show  them  a  strange  new  fiscal  device  for  the 

alleviation  of  poverty  an  inch  a  year. 
Ten  per  cent  will  eagerly  embrace  it  and  try 

to  force  it  on  the  rest. 

Gather  a  thousand  human  beings  anywhere. 

Show  them  an   Ideal  that  calls   for   heroism — 

and  a  Self  Interest  easily  reached. 
Ninety  per  cent  of  them  will  choose  the  ideal. 


150  Facets  of  Truth 


STILL  WAITING  FOR  HEAVEN 

Beware  the  medieval  concept  of  Heaven!  It 
lingers  in  the  consciousness  of  those  who  think 
themselves  most  liberal,  most  radical,  unortho- 
dox, infidel.  Many  who  fancy  themselves  free 
bold  atheists  still  believe  in  Heaven. 

They  have  disowned  the  word,  denied  the  ma- 
terial mansions  in  the  skies,  repudiated  an  after- 
death  state  of  perfect  bliss — still  they  are  thrall 
to  the  essentiality  of  the  material  concept  of 
Heaven,  which  denies  the  reality  of  Here  and 
Now  and  relegates  everything  to  the  future. 

Heaven  is  a  habit  of  thought,  a  habit  of  dwell- 
ing only  or  mainly  in  the  future.  It  is  the  idea 
that  happiness  can  only  be  attained  after  awhile, 
that  the  ideal  is  only  possible  for  the  future; 
that  here  and  now  we  must  suffer  in  this  vale  of 
tears,  but  after  awhile  we  will  reach  socialism, 
or  anarchism,  or  singletax — then  our  children  or 
their  children  will  inhabit  a  decent  world  and 
begin  truly  to  develop. 

It  admirably  pleases  the  needs  of  our  masters 
and  exploiters,  who  are  no  longer  alarmed  that 
we  repudiate  the  word  "heaven."  They  grant  us 
that  "freedom,"  seeing  that  the  Heaven  habit  of 
thought  abides  with  us  and  we  go  on  as  ever 
planning  and  educating  always,  always  for  the 
future — never  for  Now! 


I 


Facets  of  Truth  151 


HUMAN  NATURE 

Human  nature  is  full  of  meanness  and  pettiness 
— on  its  surface.  The  tongue  lies,  our  interests 
lead  us  to  deceit,  fear  keeps  us  chained  to  the 
superficial,  the  strife  against  poverty  engenders 
hate  and  envy — the  shadow  or  the  reality  of  need 
or  hunger  saps  our  frankness  and  courage,  re- 
duces us  all  to  the  status  of  sneak  thieves  and 
detectives. 

This  is  the  surface  of  life. 

Underneath  it  lies  the  heart,  dormant  usually, 
or  pumping  only  in  a  mechanical  way.  Rouse  it, 
interest  it,  excite  it  to  consciousness  and  domin- 
ance, and  you  will  find  beneath  every  hypocrite, 
liar,  and  coward  (which  we  all  are) — 

A  Man  or  a  Woman  true  and  dependable  at  the 
center. 

Human  nature  is  cramped,  distorted,  perverted 
— first  and  chiefly  by  the  economic  and  industrial 
infamies — but  its  Heart  is  true. 


152  Facets  of  Truth 


THE  SOURCE  OF  POWER 

The  seat  of  power  is  the  Heart. 

The  head  invokes  it,  the  hands  execute  it — but 
power  resides  in  the  Heart, 

Mentality  guides,  shapes,  molds  it  (more  or 
less) — but  the  source  of  power  is  the  heart. 

This  is  not  gush  or  sentimentality,  but  physi- 
ologic fact. 

The  heart  supplies  all  motor  power — automatic- 
ally as  a  rule,  unconsciously,  aimlessly. 

The  brain  analyzes,  relates,  ponders,  plans — 
but  without  the  Heart  it  has  not  power  to  stir 
a  leaf. 

In  all  life  the  Heart  is  the  reservoir  of  power, 
and  whoever  would  accomplish  anything  must 
invoke  it. 

We  quicken  the  nerve  ganglia  of  the  spleen, 
the  liver,  the  solar  plexus,  and  other  centers — 
and  get  emotions  of  hate,  envy,  deceit,  sensuality, 
as  these  centers  draw  undue  blood  from  the  Heart. 

But  quicken  the  Heart  of  man,  reach  directly 
the  Source  of  Power,  and  a  great  expansion  of 
force  flows  (we  call  it  love  or  sympathy)  that 
dominates,   dares,  and  performs! 


Facets  of  Truth  153 


PERSONAL  SALVATION 

Personal  Salvation  is  the  great  delusion.  The 
world  is  not  built  that  way.  Individualism  is 
only  intellectual  and  at  no  time  is  it  more  than 
half  the  truth.  The  other  half  is,  that  the  deeper 
part  of  every  human  is  indissolubly  attached  to 
the  human  mass  and  responsive  to  every  throb 
of  pain  or  joy  that  thrills  the  mass.  No  one  can 
fall  off  the  earth  or  rise  above  it.  While  the  mass 
is  enslaved  no  one  is  free.  While  the  mass  is 
degraded  no  one  can  be  much  else. 


IDEALS 

The  only  man  who  lives  up  to  his  ideals  is  the 
man  who  has  none. 

Ideals  are  of  thought  which  is  fluidic,  and 
wherever  thought  is  active,  ideals  keep  a  measur- 
able pace  in  advance  of  conduct.  When  conduct 
catches  up  with  ideals,  thought  has  ceased  to  flow, 
"mental  stability"  ensues,  self-complacency  and 
self-righteousness  obtain. 


154  Facets  of  Truth 


MARTYRDOM  AND  SACRIFICE 

Self-sacrifice  and  martyrdom  are  childish  con- 
cepts— when  not  worse. 

Men  seek  ever  their  own  good — what  is  most 
congenial  to  themselves,  to  whatever  element  of 
self  is  then  uppermost. 

Martyrdom  and  self-sacrifice  are — cant. 

No  one  sacrifices  himself — he  "sacrifices"  one 
part  of  himself  to  another  part.  He  relinquishes, 
rejects,  that  which  he  conceives  to  be  the  lesser 
in  order  to  obtain  what  appears  to  him  to  be  the 
greater — having  learned  that  he  cannot  have  both. 

Our  acts  are  for  self,  for  the  gain  of  self,  be  the 
gain  of  gold,  pride,  love  personal  or  impersonal. 

Forever  we  search  for  the  more  desirable — to 
Us — for  the  thrills,  surges,  feelings,  exaltations 
(or  degradations)  peculiar  to  ourselves. 

How  blindly  we  grope! — for  the  excitations  of 
alcohol,  the  soothings  of  peace,  or  the  ecstacies  of 
the  heretic  burned  at  the  stake! 

I  want  that,  and  only  that,  which  it  will  give 
me  the  greatest  satisfaction  to  obtain. 

What  is  gain  for  one  man  appears  as  dross  to 
another. 

Fear,  prejudice,  habit,  keep  many  from  finding 
their  best  gain.  Ignorance  keeps  all  from  their 
best.  But  that  which  each  seeks  is  ever  the  best 
that  each  knows  and  feels  at  the  time. 

Some  find  their  best  in  seizing,  robbing,  ex- 
ploiting —  or  in  ease  and  yielding.  Some  find 
theirs  in  giving  and  in  doing.  But  each  seeks 
always  his  own  best,  and  martyrdom  and  self- 
sacrifice  are — cant. 


Facets  of  Truth  155 


OODLES  OF  KNOWLEDGE 

If  socialism,  anarchism,  or  singletax  means  a 
kinder  and  decenter  world — 

We  are  ready  for  it  Now! 

All  our  economic  education  pertains  only  to 
life  in  the  christian  jungle — and  doesn't  ease  it  or 
help  it.  If  singletax,  socialism,  or  anarchism 
means  to  perpetuate  this  jungle  existence,  then 
they  are  all  negligible. 

If  they  mean  the  end  of  robbery  and  exploita- 
tion, if  any  one  of  them  will  shear  the  state  of  its 
power  to  bestow  privileges  that  despoil — 

Then  we  are  ready  for  it  Now,  without  another 
moment's  education  or  preparation. 

All  that  lacks  is  the  Power. 

"Knowledge  is  power" — not  at  all.  Intellect  is 
only  the  perceiver  of  things,  the  knower,  the  direc- 
tor. Power  is  one  thing,  quite  another  is  know- 
ledge. 

Already  we  have  knowledge — mountains  of  it, 
books,  tomes,  libraries  of  ancient  and  modern 
knowledge.  Life  is  cluttered  with  knowledge — 
the  heart  is  cloyed  with  it — we  have  shrivelled  to 
pusillanimity  beneath  the  heavy  load  of  our 
knowledge — most  of  which  is  self-contradictory 
and  all  of  it  negligible  while  a  million  human 
beings  are  jobless! 

Knowledge  has  robbed  us  of  Power. 


156  Facets  of  Truth 


THE  LINE  OF  CLEAVAGE 

Those  who  Care  and  those  who  don't — this  is 
the  Une  of  cleavage  in  human  society.  It  does  not 
run  between  exploiter  and  exploited,  the  robber 
and  the  robbed:  those  are  later  accidents  of  en- 
vironment and  opportunity  and  circumstances. 
The  still  earlier  "accident" — so  it  must  appear  to 
our  comprehension — that  we  have  to  deal  with  is 
the  "accident"  of  birth  which  gave  this  man  a 
quickened  heart  and  this  man  a  dull  one — this 
man  a  heart  responsive  and  this  man  a  heart 
obtuse. 

Some  men  Care  and  some  men  don't — this  is 
the  line  of  cleavage.  It  does  not  parallel  any  of 
the  artificial  lines  that  superficially  separate  so- 
ciety into  classes.  It  is  not  between  the  masses 
and  the  classes,  not  between  labor  and  capital 
nor  between  worker  and  parasite;  it  is  not  between 
proletariat,  bourgeois,  and  tinsel  aristocrat,  nor 
between  the  educated  and  the  ignorant. 

The  true  line  of  cleavage  runs  perpendicular 
thru  all  the  classes — even  thru  radicalism  itself — 
and  divides  the  world  into  those  who  Care  and 
those  who  don't. 


Facets  of  Truth  157 


NOT  THE  WORST  THING 

War  is  not  the  worst  thing  in  the  world. 

It  is  not  so  evil  and  hideous  a  thing  as  the 
gallows  or  the  electric  chair. 

The  war  passion  is  fine — that  men  will  leave  all 
that  is  dear  to  them  to  go  off  and  face  death  for 
an  ideal,  however  mistaken.  Slavish  peace  is 
worse  than  war,  and  infinitely  worse  are  the  de- 
gradation's of  disemployment. 

War  at  worst  is  ignorance — that  men  should 
make  an  ideal  of  their  slaveries. 

The  sorrow  of  the  war  is,  not  the  spirit  of 
idealism  that  drives  the  millions  to  it,  but  that 
the  millions  should  mistake  their  chains  for 
"something  better"  and  make  an  ideal  of  their 
slaveries. 

The  shame  of  the  war  is— the  Profit  wrung 
from  it. 


158  Facets  of  Truth 


THE  HEART  LEADS 

The  heart  leads,  not  the  head.  Reason  is  to 
sift  truth  from  its  clinging  fancies  and  crass  ma- 
terial concepts,  mind  is  to  detect  error,  to  corre- 
late and  to  explain,  but  the  finding  of  truth  and 
peace  or  whatever  is  of  real  worth  is  the  function 
of  the  heart.  It  leads!  And  it  leads  not  to  de- 
spair, not  to  distrust  of  Infinity  or  carping  at  its 
seeming  cruelties,  but  to  a  wider  sphere  of  con- 
sciousness with  profounder  depths  of  feeling  and 
loftier  intellectual  reaches,  where  the  antinomies 
and  perplexities  of  external  life  are  softened 
gradually  till  they  disappear — where  the  sharp 
blacks  and  whites  merge  into  grayness  and  the 
garish  midday  colors  are  lost  in  azure  mists  thru 
which  rise  those  "half-glimpsed  battlements  of 
eternity" — 

"Not  where  the  wheeling  systems  darken, 
And  our  benumbed  conceiving  soars! 
The  drift  of  pinions,  would  we  hearken. 
Beats  at  our  own  clay-shuttered  doors." 


Facets  of  Truth  159 


THE  WORLD   IS  AWAKE 

The  world  is  awake  as  never  before. 
Its  heart  is  aflame  with  daring. 
Mankind  is  ready  for  wonderful  changes. 
It  is  the  time  for  the  fruition  of  dreams! 

Huge  things  are  going  on — 

Robberies  and  exploitations  that  stagger  the 

imagination, 
A  world  holocaust  of  senseless  murder, 
Half  of  human  energy  making  death  machines, 
Privilege  reaping  monstrous  streams  of  wealth 
That  flow  from  the  life  blood  of  countless 

children,  women,  and  men — 
Human  life  crushed  into  Profit! 

The  world  is  awake — Only  for  blood,  lust,  and 

death? 
Wait!     You  will  see.     Great  things  are  coming — 

Quickly! 
The  heart  of  the  world  is  aflame. 
It  is  the  hour  for  the  fruition  of  dreams! 


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